Lady Nottingham's Secret: Book Two

by Lady to the Sheriff

This is the continuation of Lady Nottingham's Secret. It turned into a bit of a novel but it's almost done. Chapter 1 here is actually 56. There's new twists & excitement coming. Will the Sheriff and his lovely lady survive the ultimate test?

41. Chapter 96

The servant noticed a lone maiden, standing behind a large column at the right of the room, not far from the doors in the Grand Hall. The serving girl found that a little odd, but she walked over to her holding a golden tray of goblets filled with wine.

"Pardon me, Miss. Would you care for some wine?" the servant girl asked.

"Oh! You startled me." Celestria said.

"Apologies, Miss. I didn't intend to scare you. Are you here for the bride? Or, the Sheriff?" the servant asked, politely making conversation.

"I'm a friend to the Sheriff." Celestria smiled.

"Shouldn't you be at one of the tables, Miss? Or dancing, perhaps?"

"Oh, I was. I stepped away for a moment. Conversation was becoming heated, and starting to bore me. I just needed some space. You understand?"

"Of course, Miss. Sometimes these social events can be quite tedious. Some wine, Miss?" the young servant asked once more.

"Actually, that would be quite welcome." Celestria nodded.

The servant passed her a goblet and Celestria began to drink from it. The servant nodded and began to walk away, as Celestria downed the entire goblet.

"Excuse me? May I have another? I finished this. I'm… rather thirsty." Celestria blushed.

The servant turned back around to face her.

"Of course, Miss." she nodded. She took the empty goblet from Celestria and placed it back on the tray, then passed her another.

"I thank you." Celestria said. "Perhaps this wine will give me the courage to… rejoin the obnoxious blowhards at my table." she winked.

"Indeed, Miss. Enjoy. Just wave me down if you need more, or some nibbles to go along with it."

"Of course. Just… don't tell anyone you've talked to me. Alright? I need to be alone for a bit." Celestria said.

"Of course, Miss. I'm meant to just pass out the spirits and the snacks. I'm not meant to be chatting with anyone, so that works fine for me. Except for the chef, you're the only one who has spoken to me, frankly." the servant shrugged.

"My goodness, people can be so full of themselves. How rude!"

"It's a wedding after all, Miss. This is just part of the job. I must go now. Enjoy the wine, Miss." she said.

Celestria nodded and observed as the servant left her. Then she sipped of her wine and took another look around her to make sure she hadn't been seen.

There was a lull in conversation at Madam Oberon's table, as most of those seated were observing the Sheriff and his bride dancing, as well as Guy of Gisborne dancing with his lovely wife. Floria took a moment to look around the room for Luke. She couldn't see him, but, curiously, she noticed a servant carrying a tray of goblets coming from behind a large column. Could Luke be there? Did the servant just pass him a goblet of wine? She guessed that Luke would've turned down the offer of wine. He was working, after all, and he took his role quite seriously. She looked back to the dance floor. The Sheriff was too focused on his beautiful bride. He wouldn't notice if Floria left her table to join her man for a few moments.

Floria excused herself from the table and headed to the column where she observed the servant walking back from.

She was surprised when she arrived there and peaked around it.

"Don't I know you?" Floria asked. She couldn't be certain, but she thought it looked like Celestria from the back.

Celestria whirled around and faced her, holding a goblet of wine.

"Floria? What… what the hell are you doing here?" Celestria demanded. She took a moment to take in Floria's manner of dress, scanning her eyes from head to toe. "Where did you obtain that gown? How on earth could you afford such grandness?"

"I made this gown." Floria said, simply.

"Ha, ha! Sure you did!" Celestria laughed.

"Think what you want, but I designed and sewed this gown myself. The more important question is: what are you doing here?"

"I was invited, of course. I'm a friend to the Sheriff." Celestria said, as she sipped of her wine.

"Where have you been for over a fortnight? Odd, how you just vanished into thin air. And suddenly, here you are." Floria said with her eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"I've been staying with a friend of mine. You still haven't told me how you ended up with an invitation?"

"I'm employed by the Sheriff now." Floria said, simply.

"Really, now? So, he's hired personal courtesans? That's rich, since I'm his usual go-to."

"Bollocks, you are! He is devoted to Lady Rhiannon. And, I was not hired as a consort. I assist Lady Rhiannon's personal Seamstress and Wardrobe Mistress, if you must know." Floria huffed.

"Well, well, well. What an interesting turn of events." Celestria spat.

"You were no more invited than a common vagrant from the wrong side of town, were you?" Floria accused.

"What? How dare you! I told you, I'm a friend to the Sheriff. I'm actually more than that to him, but you didn't hear that from me." Celestria smirked.

"You lying little wretch! How did you gain entry? You snuck in here, didn't you? If you don't leave here right this very instant, I'm reporting this to Milord Sheriff!" Floria seethed.

"Everyone on the dance floor!" Loris Medley called out to the guests as they began to play an up tempo tune; which distracted Floria from taking leave right away — something she would later regret.

Everyone seated began to fill the dance floor.

"You bitch!" Celestria exclaimed. She downed the remainder of the wine in her goblet, then tossed it to the floor. Then, she quickly reached down.

Floria looked at her curiously, wondering what she was doing. Then, Celestria straightened up, and swiftly grabbed Floria, holding a dagger to her throat before Floria could even process what was happening.

"What the hell are you doing? You're mad!" Floria shrieked.

"I know exactly what I'm doing. Let's go!" Celestria hissed as she began to drag Floria out of the room, unbeknownst to everyone present — except one.

Luke was across the room standing against a large column watching the celebrations on the dance floor and scanning the guests to look for a maiden who might be out of place. He looked to his right, and noticed Floria exiting the hall with another maiden walking very closely — and swiftly beside her.

He started to head in the direction of the doors to make sure Floria was alright, when he noticed Drake seated at a table with Lady Gunilda. He walked over to them.

"The Captain said you were here, but I hadn't seen you before now." Luke said, interrupting their conversation.

Drake swung his head around and greeted his mate.

"Have you been seated here all this time?" Luke asked.

"No. I just came by to check on Lady Gunilda." Drake said. "What can I do for you, mate?"

"I just saw my gir — I saw Floria exiting the Hall with an unfamiliar maiden, oddly. I was going to follow to see if she is alright."

"That's interesting. Why would she leave the room?" Gunilda chimed in.

"That's what I'd like to know." Luke said.

"What did the other maiden look like?" Drake asked as he stood from his seat.

"I could only see the back of them. I recognized Floria immediately because of her gown. The other one was wearing a cape."

"Hmm. That sounds a little suspicious, don't you think, Drake?" Gunilda asked.

"Indeed. It does." Drake agreed.

"You don't think — " Luke started to say, but was interrupted.

"Anything is possible, Luke. The maiden managed to get away from us — on foot!"

"And, she was wearing a cape. Except, who wouldn't this time of year?" Gunilda added.

"But, why would she wear it inside the Grand Hall during the fete?" Drake pointed out.

"Sneaky little brat." Gunilda muttered.

"Curses! If that was her I saw, she's got Floria!" Luke exclaimed.

"Your… girl. Correct, mate?" Drake asked.

"You mustn't tell him, Drake. It's early stages, anyway. We've only… kissed once." Luke sighed and looked downcast.

"I understand, Luke. I'll go out and look for them. You go and inform the Sheriff. You're too close to Floria to think straight." Drake suggested.

"No. If that murderous consort took my girl — "

"Trust me. Let me go and check, mate. He will heed what you have to say to him."

"I don't like this, Drake! They were walking very swiftly and quite close together. Something is off. I'm telling you!"

"Report this to the Sheriff, and then you can join me. It will give you a few moments to gather your wits about you." Drake said, attempting to assuage him.

"Very well. But, as soon as I talk to him, I'm out of here. I will not let that insane woman harm my Floria!" Luke huffed then went on his way.

Gunilda stood from her chair.

"What are you doing, Milady?" Drake asked.

"I'm coming with you, Drake. For Goddess' sake! I came here to assist you in capturing the brat." Gunilda sighed.

"It's not safe, Lady Gunilda. What if she smuggled a weapon past the portcullis? Let the Black Knights deal with it. That's what we're here for."

"My! How quickly you've forgotten. I don't need a weapon. I have magick. Milord Sheriff gave me license to use it, if you'll recall." she reminded him with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"Very well. Let's go. We'll separate and cover the main floor, then meet back outside of the doors to the Hall." he relented.

They left the room to begin their search.

Following the conclusion of their dances with their husbands, the ladies had joined Rhiannon on the dance floor as the song ended.

"That was marvellous! I can't even recall the last time Robert and I danced together!" Isabelle smiled.

"The last time for us was at our wedding in September. Unfortunately, it was soon after that… things took a turn." Meridwyn said.

"Don't think about that now, Meridwyn. Just enjoy!" Rhiannon smiled.

"You're right, honey. That's all behind us, thank heavens. Oh! Here comes another fun little tune!" Meridwyn exclaimed, gleefully.

"I don't know where our men went?" Isabelle said

"George has been wanting to speak to Nichol. Unfortunately, someone seated Nichol with the Prince. He can have at it without me." Rhiannon grinned.

"Maybe Guy and Robert went with him? They'll return to us soon. Let's dance, ladies." Meridwyn suggested.

"Yes! We should!" Isabelle agreed.

"You ladies go ahead. I'll rejoin you in a few moments. It's rather stuffy in here. I need some water, or something." Rhiannon said.

"Don't be too long, honey. It's your party!" Meridwyn smiled.

"I'll be right back." she smiled.

Meridwyn grabbed Isabelle's hand and they joined the other guests in a dance.

Rhiannon went back to the table and stood at it while she grabbed a goblet filled with water and began to sip it. Just then, a young servant approached her.

"Milady Rhiannon?" the servant asked.

"I'm fine. I don't need any more wine. This water is perfect." Rhiannon said as she took another sip.

"Milady, there's a problem in the stables. I was asked to come and get you." the servant girl said.

"What? Perhaps you should inform my husband?"

"Milady, there's a problem with your horse."

"What?" Rhiannon asked, incredulously.

"The stable master needs to see you straightway, Milady."

"Of course. I'll head there right now. Do let my husband know where I've gone." Rhiannon instructed.

"Yes, Milady." the servant nodded.

"It's a jolly good party, Georgie, I must say! I found an attractive red head who likes to dance, too. A real looker, she is!" Prince John grinned as he sipped of his wine.

"I'm pleased you're enjoying yourself, Your Highness." Nottingham said.

"Hopefully, he's not referring to my wife." Guy muttered under his breath.

"Doubtful, Sir Guy. She's currently dancing with my wife." Robert whispered as he nodded to them on the dance floor.

"Of course. Meridwyn wouldn't give him the time of day." Guy said, softly.

"Any news, George? Everything seems to be running smoothly since the men got rid of the intruders at the ceremony." Nichol said.

"We may still have a lone wolf to handle." the Sheriff hinted.

"I haven't heard anything since the Duke informed the men of the newest update." Guy added.

"What are you men talking about? You should be dancing with your wives. They're out on the dance floor, I see." Prince John said.

The Sheriff turned around to look, but didn't see Rhiannon with the ladies. She was absent from their table, as well.

"That's funny. I don't see Rhiannon anywhere?" the Sheriff remarked.

"Maybe she went to speak to Constancia, or the ladies at Madam Oberon's table in the back? Her lady servant is seated there." Guy said.

"No. I'm not seeing her anywhere." he muttered.

"I'm sure she's around here somewhere, Milord. She wouldn't just run off. Not tonight." Robert said, attempting to assuage him.

Just then Luke appeared before them.

"Milord Sheriff? A word." Luke said.

"Whatever you're here to tell me, Guy and Robert will be joining us." he said.

"Very well." Luke nodded.

The Sheriff nodded for Guy and Robert to join he and Luke. He led them away from the Prince's table where they couldn't be heard.

"What is it, Luke?"

"A few moments ago, I saw… Floria being led out of the room by a maiden I hadn't seen before. They were walking quickly, and the maiden was very close to Floria. It… didn't look right, Milord."

"Did you get a look at the maiden with Floria?" he asked.

"Negative. Her back was to me and she was wearing a cape. I got the impression that… Floria wasn't leaving with her willingly. It just didn't look right to me." Luke reported.

"That's definitely odd, Cousin." Guy frowned.

"You don't think — " Robert was interrupted.

"Anything is possible. Although, if that's her, why she'd take Floria is a mystery. Her target is my bride." he sighed.

"They did work together once, Cousin." Guy pointed out.

"Not for very long. From the replies I got during questioning, they barely knew each other." Nottingham said. Then he looked to Luke. "Did you tell anyone before me? Tell me someone has gone after them!"

"I was on my way out to investigate when Drake stopped me. He went after her. I'm going to head out now to see what I can uncover." Luke said.

"Good. We're coming with you." the Sheriff said.

"Pardon me, Milord." a young servant girl suddenly appeared before him.

"I don't need anything you have on that tray." he said dismissively as he waved her away.

"Milord, I've a message for you." the servant persisted.

"Not now! I'm busy!" he exclaimed as he began to walk away, nodding to Guy and Robert to join him.

"Milord, it's about your bride." she called after him.

He stopped in his tracks and whirled around to face her. Guy and Robert soon followed suit.

"What about my bride?" he asked suspiciously, with his eyes narrowed upon her.

"She wanted me to tell you she was summoned to the stables."

"Really? By whom?"

"I don't know, Milord. I've never seen her before." the servant shrugged.

"Her!" he growled.

"Apparently, there's a problem with Milady's horse." the girl added.

"Something's going on, Meridwyn." Isabelle said as she nodded to the men who were standing about ten feet away from them.

"Yes. I saw Luke talking to them. Now, they look to be heading out of here. I wonder why? Strange he's talking to that servant." Meridwyn said.

Isabelle looked over to the head table, then quickly scanned the room.

"Meridwyn. She's gone!" Isabelle whispered, urgently.

"What? Rhiannon? But… where could she be?"

"I don't know, but I don't see her anywhere. Do you think they know?" Isabelle wondered as she nodded in the direction where the men stood.

"A problem with her horse. Ha! More like a trap! Come on, men. Let's go get this bitch once and for all." Nottingham seethed as he marched toward the doors, with Guy and Robert following closely behind. The Captain was standing by the doors and looked to the Sheriff, questioningly.

"We got a beat on the consort, Duke. The stables. She's holding my lady there, and another recent hire named Floria. Gather the men." he instructed.

"Of course." Duke Farnsworth nodded.

"We're going in. You and the men surround the stables."

The Captain nodded and left to inform the men.

"This doesn't look good, Isabelle. Now, they're leaving." Meridwyn stated, nervously.

"You go get our capes. I'll run over and ask that servant girl if she heard where they were going. He just spoke with the Captain, too. Something's wrong. I think it has to do with Rhiannon." Isabelle said.

"Alright. I'll meet you by the doors." Meridwyn nodded as she headed to the table where their capes were draped on the chairs.

Rhiannon arrived breathlessly to the stables, her gown nearly drenched. She was surprised she hadn't seen Gervase, the stable master.

"Sugarstar!" she called out as she walked toward the stall.

Suddenly, a figure jumped out at her from an empty stall to her left.

"Leave it to you to name a horse that." Celestria sneered.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Rhiannon demanded as she quickly pulled the Sheriff's dagger from the right pocket of her skirt.

"You're armed, I see. A lot of good that will do you — dressed like that. What an absolute farce! I've never seen such a miserable looking groom in my life." Celestria laughed.

"You know nothing, you insufferable harlot!" Rhiannon shouted as she lunged toward her aiming the dagger at her.

Celestria swiftly raised her right leg high in the air and managed to kick the dagger out of Rhiannon's hand. It landed several feet away. Then she whirled around and kicked at her again, landing the kick to Rhiannon's left side, knocking the wind out of her. She fell to the ground. After the initial pain, the lady tried to crawl toward where the dagger lay resting on the ground. She reached out as she moved slowly, but then a boot stepped upon her hand.

Rhiannon looked up at her, her jaw clenched in anger.

"What is your game?" Rhiannon demanded.

"This is not a game." Celestria hissed.

She pulled rope out of the pocket of her cape and quickly tied Rhiannon's hands behind her back after subduing her with yet another kick to her side.

"Get up!" Celestria ordered her. She grabbed her left arm and began to pull her off the floor.

"Gah! You're hurting me, you bitch!" Rhiannon shouted.

"Move!" Celestria demanded. She ushered Rhiannon out of the back door and walked her outside toward a nearby large wooden shed.

Rhiannon was angry, frustrated, and wincing in pain. When they walked inside the shed, her boots making contact with the wooden floor, she didn't know what the plan was, or how she'd get out of it, but she knew she was going to try. Celestria closed the door and lit a lantern. Suddenly, a scene appeared before her that made her gasp in horror.

Floria was standing on a wooden bucket. There was a noose around her neck, which attached to a beam up on the ceiling; and her hands were tied behind her back. Oddly, a lone chair was to Floria's right. Only a few feet away.

"Oh, my God. Floria!" Rhiannon shrieked.

"Milady! I don't understand why she's doing this?" Floria exclaimed as a tear spilled onto her cheek.

"Of course not, my dear. No sane person could possibly understand her motives!"

"For God's sake! Will you two shut it? There's a chair beside where Floria is. Go. Sit!" Celestria said as she pulled Rhiannon toward the chair. Then she shoved her down on it.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're going to have more than the Sheriff's wrath to deal with after this. You're also going to face the wrath of one of his top men in the Black Knights!" Floria exclaimed, carelessly.

"Really, now? And, whom might that be?" Celestria demanded.

"Never you mind!" Rhiannon yelled.

"Be careful, my lady. She's completely unhinged!" Floria warned her.

"Don't worry, Floria. It will be alright." Rhiannon said, trying to reassure herself at the same time.

"Too late for that! You two need to shut the hell up. You're getting on my nerves!" Celestria spat. She swiftly walked behind the chair Rhiannon sat in and grabbed at her watteau train affixed to the shoulder area of her gown.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rhiannon demanded.

"Quiet!" Celestria demanded as she yanked even harder until the entire length of chiffon was halfway pulled free from the gown.

Then, the consort impatiently used her dagger, and began sawing at the chiffon fabric, close to where it was sewn onto the back.

"Stop! What do you think you're doing?" Rhiannon asked, incredulously.

Celestria ignored her and then made a few long strips from the train. She grabbed one of the strips and stood behind Rhiannon, holding it in front of her face.

"No! Stop this!" Rhiannon shouted.

"I said: shut the hell up, bitch!" Celestria hissed as she placed it over Rhiannon's mouth and tied it tight around her head.

Then, she grabbed another strip and went across the room to grab a chair. She dragged it across the floor until it was behind Floria. She climbed up on the chair.

"No! What are you doing? Leave us, Celestria! Sto — " Floria exclaimed, but was abruptly interrupted.

"Save it!" Celestria shouted as she began to gag Floria, as well.

As Drake was checking the rooms on the main floor, Luke headed outside. He figured he'd cover more ground that way than assisting Drake inside of the castle. He decided to head to the stables and then work his way back.

As he neared the stables he noticed that it appeared there was light inside the nearby shed. That was unusual. It was always closed up at night. He headed in that direction, thinking he would only be a moment, then he would have a quick look in the stables.

Lady Gunilda had just looked through some rooms on the main floor. She could smell Floria's insane rage. She had an intuition that whatever was happening was taking place somewhere outside the castle. She exited the front doors to walk outside.

The Sheriff and his men were approaching the main doors that headed out to the front of the castle. He was completely focused on the task at hand, walking purposefully, not speaking to Guy or Robert.

"You sure she said the stables, Isabelle?" Meridwyn asked as they walked swiftly through the main floor corridor toward the front doors.

"Yes. She said she just informed Milord that Rhiannon was summoned to the stables. Something to do with her horse." Isabelle said.

"Bollocks! Sounds like she was being lured." Meridwyn said.

"That's my fear, too." Isabelle nodded.

"I don't know how much help we'll be, but let's go. She's going to need us." Meridwyn said.

Luke quietly opened the door to the shed and stepped inside, curiously. As he slowly advanced further he saw them. Lady Rhiannon was bound and gagged, seated on a wooden chair. There was blood on her gown on her left side. That was difficult enough to see, but it was Floria who really frightened him. She could hang at any moment! She also had her hands bound behind her back, and was gagged. The ladies appeared to be gagged by a part of Lady Rhiannon's wedding gown. He was glad he was well armed, not just with his sword, but his bow and a quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. The sword wouldn't help Floria, but a well aimed arrow could.

He moved behind a wall at the front and peaked around it. The ladies were trying to shout through the white fabric tied around their mouths as a young maiden, oddly, with her left shoulder obviously bandaged, was taunting them. Then, Rhiannon saw him. Floria, who was wondering why Rhiannon had stopped trying to scream, noticed that Rhiannon seemed to be focusing on something just ahead. She turned her head and squinted her eyes. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of him. Tears fell down her cheeks as she tried to scream his name.

Luke looked at them both with his index finger held to his lips. They looked to him and obeyed.

But then, as he tried to sneak behind the wall again, his bow caught a large chain that was on a table and pulled it to the ground. He muttered curses under his breath and stood still behind the wall.

"Who is there?" Celestria called out as she walked toward the area by the door where she heard the noise coming from.

Luke came out from where he was hiding with his sword in hand.

"Ah! You must be the Black Knight I was warned about! Is she yours?" Celestria asked as she nodded to Floria.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you are under arrest! Drop that dagger. Now!" Luke shouted.

"Ah, how glorious! Seems I've found your weak spot. Just try and catch me." Celestria smirked as she ran back to the ladies.

Lady Rhiannon stood from the chair and kicked it away from them until it landed against a wall. She tried to wriggle her hands free from the bindings around her wrists.

Celestria slapped Rhiannon's face and quickly stood behind her. She held her in a choke hold with her left arm, and held the blade of her dagger to her throat with the opposite hand.

"Luke!" both of the ladies tried to scream through their gags.

"Fuck it. You're done, whore." Luke seethed, pointing his sword toward Celestria.

"Ah, ah, ah! Careful now. You may want to look down at where my boot is, Mister." Celestria grinned.

Luke looked down and noted she had her boot placed up against the wooden bucket that Floria stood upon.

"Damn you!" Luke spat.

"Luke!" Floria screamed through her gag.

"I'd think carefully about your next move. Who are you going to save? Will you save your employer's new bride — as you're sworn to? Or, will you save your… whatever the hell she is to you?" Celestria said disdainfully, as she nodded to her left at Floria.

She pressed the blade into Rhiannon's neck so that it just pierced the skin and drew blood, and at the same time began to lightly tap at the wooden bucket with the sole of her left boot.

Floria looked to Luke with her eyes widened in horror, and again tried to scream.

"I can slice and kick at the same time." Celestria smirked.

"You murderous wench! Step away from them!" Luke shouted.

As the Sheriff and his men entered the stables, Gunilda was following her gut, and headed to the shed that was near to them. She could see light coming from inside there. She carefully opened the door and stepped inside. She could hear voices. It sounded like Celestria and the serious Knight who was a friend to Drake. She quickly hid behind a wall, careful so as not to touch the heavy chain that was on the floor, reviewing her options and carefully weighing her next moves.

The Sheriff, Guy and Robert entered into the stables, somewhat bewildered to note that Gervase was nowhere to be seen. As the Sheriff walked toward the stall where Rhiannon's horse was located his boot made contact with an object that was laying on the ground. It made a tinging noise. He stopped and looked to the floor. Then he sighed as he bent down to pick it up.

"What is it, Cousin?" Guy asked.

"They were here. Rhiannon tried to defend herself!" he spat as he held his dagger out to show them. Then he shoved it inside a pocket of his doublet.

"Curses!" Robert exclaimed as he ran through the stables, the Sheriff and Guy right behind him.

"The back door is ajar, George! Where would that consort have taken her?" Robert asked, urgently.

They walked through the back door and noted there was light emanating from inside the shed that was just ahead of them, about twenty yards away. They began to move swiftly toward it.

"They're in there, men. Can you hear him? I can hear Luke shouting inside there." the Sheriff said.

"Step away from them, and drop your weapon. NOW!" Luke shouted.

The men advanced quickly to the shed, and quietly entered inside.

Gunilda sighed and stepped out from behind the wall. Nottingham was right behind her.

"Gilda!" he whispered.

"I must do something, George." Gunilda whispered. "She's completely insane!"

"Can you do it from back here?" he whispered.

"Yes. I think so."

"Then, stay here." he instructed.

Guy and Robert exchanged curious glances at one another over the exchange between the Sheriff and Lady Gunilda. He was not bothered in the least that she addressed him by his given name. And, he called her something different. Robert couldn't help but wonder — just how well did these two know each other?

"I said: drop your weapon, and step away from them. Now! You are under arrest by order of the Sheriff of Nottingham!" Luke shouted.

"The Sheriff is going to thank me when this is over. Trust me!" Celestria laughed.

The Sheriff started to move forward, but Gunilda reached out and lightly grabbed his arm.

"What is it, Gilda?" he whispered in frustration.

"You had better brace yourself, George. You haven't yet seen what she's done to them, but… it's ugly." Gunilda warned.

"Duly noted. Wait here. We're going in." he said, softly.

"I'll let you know when I've worked my magick. I think you're going to need it." she whispered.

Guy and Robert looked at her, curiously.

"Whatever you're planning on doing, try and do it fast!" he instructed, then he slowly advanced forward.

"You're mad! He will hang you for this, and you know it!" Luke shouted.

"No, he won't. He loves me." Celestria said.

"Keep telling yourself that, wench. You're going down. Now!" Luke said, sharply.

The Sheriff was finally close enough to take in the scene before him. Now, he knew why Luke hadn't made a move yet. It was too dangerous. The cursed little bitch was holding two ladies lives in her power. One by using her hands, the other, by using her boot. Both of them looked terrified. Curses!

"Find another lantern, or a torch, Gis. Let's shed some more light on this cursed situation so we can plan better." the Sheriff whispered.

"Indeed, Cousin." Guy whispered.

At this time Ladies Meridwyn and Isabelle were walking through the stables, bewildered to find nobody was there. Not even the stable master was present. There were horses in most of the stalls, but it was otherwise empty.

"This is ludicrous! Where the hell is everyone?" Meridwyn asked.

"Back here, Meridwyn!" Isabelle called from where she stood at the back door.

Meridwyn walked quickly toward her and looked at her, curiously.

"What, Isabelle? There's no one here!"

"Not here, but look over there. I've never seen light coming from inside that shed at night. Have you?"

"They must be in there!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"We should at least take a look." Isabelle said.

The two ladies left the stables and walked toward the shed. The rain picked up as they made their way to the door. They were glad they had their capes. Finally, they arrived.

They stepped inside, softly closing the door.

"Now what?" Meridwyn asked.

"I hear a woman's voice, and Luke's. We best stay back here." Isabelle suggested.

Gunilda softly followed behind the Sheriff and Robert. Then, Guy joined the men, holding a lantern.

Guy held the lantern up as the Sheriff spoke.

"You heard him. Drop your weapon and step away from the ladies! Then, get down on the floor. Don't look at us." the Sheriff called out.

"How nice to see you, Milord Sheriff! Look! I'm doing us both a favour." Celestria smirked.

She held Lady Rhiannon tightly, still holding the blade to her throat; and kept the sole of her boot up against the wooden bucket that Floria stood upon, still rhythmically tapping it.

"Oh, my God! I just caught sight of them, Isabelle!" Meridwyn exclaimed in a whisper as she began to tremble.

"I know. I see it, too. My goodness! What is wrong with that strange consort? Why is she doing this?" Isabelle whispered.

"I don't know, Isabelle. We better stay quiet." Meridwyn whispered.

"Ha! You are doing me a favour because, guess what? You'll be dead soon." the Sheriff hissed.

"How can you say such things after the moments we shared?" Celestria pouted.

"Moments? You are completely deluded. Drop your weapon, step away, and get on the floor. Now, you cursed little bitch!" Nottingham said as he went and stood beside Luke with his sword in hand.

Gunilda stood behind them with her eyes closed and her arms outstretched, hurriedly muttering incantations under her breath.

Rhiannon spotted Lady Gunilda standing behind the men. She was acting oddly. Rhiannon was wondering what the woman was up to.

"I'm sorry, Milord. It was too dangerous to both Lady Rhiannon and Floria to make a move, especially without backup." Luke whispered.

"I know, lad. She would have killed one, or both of them if you had." he said, softly.

"Like I told your Knight here, I can slice and kick simultaneously." Celestria laughed. "I can stay like this all night."

"Drop the blade and step back!" Nottingham ordered her.

"Let them go, you insufferable whore!" Robert shouted.

"Ha, ha, ha! Make me." she said, coldly.

"To hell with it. The sword is no use. I need my bow, Milord." Luke said, softly.

"Do what you must, Luke." he whispered.

"Oh, boy. This isn't good." Meridwyn muttered.

"I've never heard Robert speak like that before. He never gets angry." Isabelle whispered.

"If there was a time for him to be angry, this is it, Isabelle. I'm sure he'd react the same way if you were in trouble."

"Yes. I think you're right." Isabelle whispered.

Gunilda continued to whisper incantations, with her arms outstretched. Her eyes were still closed, but squinted in frustration. She didn't know how long this would take, but she was determined to continue until she could make it work.

By this time, the Captain and the men had figured out that nobody was in the stables. Ancel noticed a blood trail on the ground leading from the middle of the stables toward the back of them. The men followed him.

"Why is there light inside the shed?" Adam asked.

"Because they're there! Let's go, men." the Captain instructed them.

Floria was growing impatient, and even more frightened as time passed. She looked to Luke and tried to scream his name again through the gag on her mouth.

Celestria responded by tapping harder on the bucket.

"Can you get a shot at that rope, Luke?" the Sheriff asked.

"I'm going to damn well try!" Luke exclaimed in a whisper. He loaded his bow and aimed the arrow up toward the rope above Floria's head.

"Luke!" Floria pleaded through the gag.

"You're boring me. Bye, Floria!" Celestria laughed as she kicked hard at the bucket until it toppled over.

Floria was suspended now by the rope around her neck.

"George!" Rhiannon wailed through the gag.

Luke let go of the arrow. It missed. He cursed, and quickly loaded his bow again. He fired another arrow, and this time it sliced through the rope, and Floria fell to the ground.

Celestria froze. She looked out at the men, with fear in her eyes.

"Now, Milord! It's working! Do it now!" Gunilda shouted.

Nottingham started toward the scene, his sword outstretched and aimed toward Floria.

Robert pushed him aside, completely surprising him.

"Rhiannon!" Robert shouted, a dagger in his hand.

Lady Rhiannon kicked behind her into Celestria's shin. Celestria let go of her, with a bewildered expression on her face. Rhiannon moved swiftly out of the way, as Robert threw the dagger at the consort.

The blade landed in Celestria's chest, knocking her backward onto the floor. She let out a blood curdling scream, then stopped.

"Oh, my God! I think he killed her. Robert killed her!" Isabelle whispered with a shudder as she put her hand to her mouth.

"The woman gave them no choice, honey. Someone had to put her down." Meridwyn whispered.

"But… why did it have to be Robert?"

"Honey, it was either going to be him, or George. Robert did what needed to be done." Meridwyn soothed, then she put her arm around her to comfort her.

Luke ran to Floria to take the noose from around her neck. He removed the gag and she began to cough, then wept against Luke's shoulder.

The Sheriff went to his bride and removed her gag and the bindings from around her wrists.

Robert walked over to the consort to make sure she was dead.

"George!" Rhiannon whispered.

"Dear Zeus! What did that bitch do to you, my angel?"

"Kicked me a few times. I think I'm bleeding."

"Yes. Your neck is bleeding, too." he frowned as he pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his doublet and held it to her throat. "I shall have Thomas see to both of you." he said. "It's over now, my angel."

"And, not by either of us." she whispered, still in shock by her brother's actions. She took the handkerchief from him and held it in place. "I tried, George."

"I know you did. I found the dagger in the stables." he said.

"She kicked it out of my hand, before she kicked me and knocked me to the ground." she sighed.

"Did we invite Thomas to the wedding, Rhiannon?" he asked.

"We did. I saw him talking to Madam Oberon at one point."

"Good." he said as he held her to him.

"She's dead, Milord." Robert said, as he suddenly appeared before them.

"That was quite a risk you took, Robert." Nottingham pointed out with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I guess… I was feeling lucky."

"Brother!" Rhiannon whispered, and extended her hand out to him.

"It's alright, dearest. It's over now." Robert soothed as he grasped her hand, then embraced her.

"Well done, Robert!" Guy said as he slapped him on his back.

"And, Luke and Lady Gunilda, too." the Sheriff added. "Gilda? Where are you?"

"Right here, Milord." Gunilda replied as she walked forward and stood beside Guy.

"What were you doing, Lady Gunilda? I saw you behind the men with your eyes closed and your arms outstretched, but I couldn't figure out what you were doing?" Rhiannon asked.

"It was nothing, Lady Rhiannon." Gunilda shrugged, evasively.

Meridwyn and Isabelle heard noises just outside the door and moved out of the way. The door flew open as the Captain, the Sheriff's top men, as well as Nichol, Drake, Adam, Gerad and Alex barged in.

"Milord Sheriff? Is everything in order?" the Captain asked.

"We heard shouting and then a scream, so we decided to breach the entry." Mordrid said.

The men moved forward and shook their heads slowly as they noticed the blood on Lady Rhiannon's beautiful white gown, as well as on her neck. The lady was holding her left side, grimacing in obvious pain. Then, they saw Luke with another maiden seated on the floor. There was a noose laying on the floor a few feet from them, and frayed rope hanging from the beam attached to the ceiling. The pretty blond maiden in the lovely rich blue velvet gown, trimmed in gold satin was holding unto Luke for dear life, coughing, and shaking. There were red marks on her neck.

"Dear God!" Drake exclaimed.

"You missed quite the drama, Drake." Gunilda whispered.

"We were surrounding the shed, waiting on further instruction." Drake said.

"Mission accomplished, men. I want this rotten whore taken out of here, and she is to be burned. I don't care who takes care of it, but I want her gone." Nottingham instructed them as he pointed to the consort's bleeding body on the floor.

"Is that… a dagger that was used on her?" Nichol asked.

"Nic? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Did you think I was just going to sit in the Grand Hall watching the Prince get drunker by the moment while this was going on? I might be impaired with this leg of mine, but I'm not completely useless, and I can still use my sword, George." Nichol smirked.

"Of course." Nottingham grinned.

"Yes. That's my dagger. I'll take that back." Robert said.

"Did you kill her, Robert?" Ancel asked.

"He did, men. Remember how good he was at the knife throwing drinking game last night? Turns out, that was his rehearsal." Nottingham grinned.

"Well done, Robert!" Nichol exclaimed.

"Indeed!" the Captain agreed.

"It was either me, or him." Robert said, nodding to the Sheriff. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his doublet and wiped the blood from the dagger. Then he tossed the handkerchief to the floor.

"It's alright now, my love. You're okay. Thank God!" Luke whispered to Floria as he assisted her to stand.

Floria put her hand to her mouth and coughed as she held onto Luke.

"You just… called me… my love." Floria whispered.

"Yes. And, I almost lost you. I couldn't let that happen." Luke said, softly. Not again. He thought.

He walked Floria to where the Sheriff and his bride stood.

"I'm going to take Floria into the castle now, Milord, if that's alright?"

"That's fine, Luke. Take her to my chambers. I'm going to have Thomas see to both of them. It will be easier for Thomas." the Sheriff said.

"Very well." Luke nodded.

He put his arm around Floria and walked her to the door.

Meridwyn and Isabelle slowly walked forward.

"Robert?" Isabelle whispered. She was trembling, as Meridwyn still had her arm around her to steady her.

"Belle! My dearest! Are you alright?" Robert exclaimed as he went to her and held her.

"She's a little rattled, Robert. We saw… everything." Meridwyn explained.

"Wife! What in the devil would possess you to bring Lady Isabelle here? It was too dangerous, my dear!" Guy admonished.

"We knew she would need us, my love. Forgive me." Meridwyn said.

Guy sighed, and then he kissed Meridwyn's hand.

"The more important question is: since when did you start calling your wife "Belle"? Rhiannon asked Robert.

"Since always, but I don't use it often. Only when she needs comforting. It's just a nickname. Kind of like how I call you "Sis" sometimes, and occasionally, I call your husband — "

"Alright, Robert. That's enough." Nottingham sighed.

Robert looked at him and smirked.

"What does he call you, George?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's between the two of us, my lady. The last thing we need is to encourage him." he sighed.

"Dear God, Rhi! You're bleeding — from everywhere, it seems!" Meridwyn exclaimed as she went to her.

Isabelle extricated herself from her husband's embrace and joined them.

"Dearest! We must get you tended to! Is there pain?" Isabelle asked.

"A little, on my left side." Rhiannon said. She paused a moment, then continued. "Belle. I like that!"

"Nobody has ever called me that, except for your brother. I don't know how I would feel about anyone else calling me by that name."

"Understood." Rhiannon smiled.

"Others have called me Izzy." Isabelle smiled.

"What's going on over there? Why isn't that whore's rotting body gone?" the Sheriff asked his men.

"We're doing that now, Milord. Adam and Mordrid are going to take care of it." the Captain said.

"Good." he nodded. He looked to Drake next. "Drake, I'll leave it to you to escort Lady Gunilda home. I don't want her going on her own."

"Of course, Milord." Drake nodded.

"I appreciate that, Milord." Gunilda said.

Then, he looked to his family. "Let's get out of here. The men are going to need space to carry the body out. You ladies don't need to see that."

"What shall we do about the guests in the Grand Hall, Cousin?" Guy asked.

"Seems a shame to cut it short, George?" Rhiannon added.

"Are you jesting? What good is a wedding celebration without the bride and groom? No one is going to be interested in celebrating any further. It's late, anyway." Meridwyn pointed out.

"I agree with Meridwyn." Nottingham said. He looked to the Captain. "I'm going to leave that with you, Duke. You make the announcement that the celebrations are over. And, make sure to send Thomas to my chambers straightway."

"As you wish, Milord." he nodded, then left to carry out the task.

"I'm taking Rhiannon to our chambers. I'm sure you want to join us. Luke and Floria will be meeting us there." he said to the Gisbornes and the Wordsworths.

"Yes. We want to make sure they're alright before we leave you." Robert said.

They left the shed and ventured out into the rain. Rhiannon was moving a little slower than normal, so she told her family to go on ahead. The Sheriff unbuttoned his doublet, removed it then put it on his bride. He walked beside her with his arm around her.

"It's not nearly as warm as my surcoat, but it will help." he said.

"Maybe I should stand here a moment, my love? Perhaps the rain can wash this blood stain from my gown? I'll give your doublet back so you don't freeze."

"We would need to stand out here awhile for that to happen, my angel. It would need to rain a lot harder than this. Besides, it's chill out here, and your gown is already soaked." he said.

"George?"

"What is it, my lady?"

"I'm… not going to be feeling up to anything adventurous after everyone leaves us. I hope you'll forgive me. It's our wedding night, after all." Rhiannon sighed.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. He held her face in his hands and leaned his forehead against hers.

"You're alive, my angel. That's all that matters right now." he whispered, then kissed her softly.

"Thank you, my love." a beat. "Wait. What about Gervase? She must have injured him. He never leaves his post!"

"Wait here a moment, my lady. I'll ask the men to look for him." he said.

Then he ran back to the shed to speak with them.

He returned to her quickly, and reported that Gerad and Alex were going to look for Gervase. Then, they walked toward the front entrance.

A short time later they arrived to the door of his chambers. Everyone was waiting outside the door, except for Luke and Floria who were seated on a nearby bench. The Sheriff unlocked the door and held it so everyone could enter.

"I'll take Rhiannon into the bedchamber, Luke. You have Floria lay on the sofa in the den. I think there's a blanket there if she needs it." he said.

"Yes, Milord." Luke nodded. Then he assisted Floria toward the sofa.

"Now, all we need is Thomas." the Sheriff said.

"I've a feeling he's going to need to examine Gervase, too. She must have done something to him, Cousin." Guy said.

"Gerad and Alex are looking for him. I think you're right." Nottingham agreed.

Moments later he helped Rhiannon to the bed.

"We need to get you out of that gown, my lady. It's soaked through. You need warm, dry clothing now."

"I think I can manage to get out of it on my own, husband. Perhaps just a clean shift and my dressing gown will do. I'll be needing those soon, anyway." she said.

"Very well."

"You need to change out of your clothes, too, my sweet. Your tunic and breeches are soaked, as well." Rhiannon pointed out.

"I'm sure I'll surv — "

"George, you nearly died last week. Change out of those soaking wet clothes." she said, firmly.

"Alright. Only because I can't be bothered to argue." he sighed.

He brought her a shift and her velvet dressing gown and laid them on the bed for her. Then he quickly changed his clothes and left the bedchamber to join the others and wait for the arrival of Thomas.

A short time later, Thomas arrived holding his bag.

"What's happened now, Milord?" Thomas asked.

"There was an incident not long ago. Someone on my wanted list took my bride, and a new hire, Floria, to the shed, out by the stables. My lady was kicked and had a blade held to her throat. It pierced her skin. She's bleeding from where she was kicked, and a little bit on her neck. Floria is on the sofa. Luke is with her. She was hanged by the woman who did this to them, and was suspended there for a few moments until Luke managed to tear through the rope with a well aimed arrow." the Sheriff quickly explained.

"Dear God!" Thomas exclaimed. "I take it Lady Rhiannon is in the bedchamber?"

"Yes. She was changing into dry clothes."

Thomas nodded and went over to the sofa.

"Floria is it? Not… Eva?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, it's Floria." she said, then she began to cough.

"Milord, do you have water we could give to her?" Thomas asked.

"Yes." he nodded.

The Sheriff walked over to a table where a pitcher of water and some goblets were located. He poured the water and brought the goblet to Floria.

She gratefully took a few sips, then Thomas examined her neck.

"Those marks will fade in a few days, Floria. Any difficulty breathing?"

"No. I've just been coughing since it happened." Floria said.

"That will sort itself out, too. Drink plenty of fluids. I'll give you something to help you rest tonight, Floria. You'll probably need it after the fright you just endured." Thomas said.

"Indeed. Thank you." Floria nodded.

"Thank you, Thomas." Luke said.

"Stay here until I've seen to Lady Rhiannon. When I return from the bedchamber I'll give you something to take with you to help you sleep." Thomas instructed.

"Of course, Thomas." Luke said. He arranged the blanket on top of Floria and sat in a chair by her side.

"Aren't they adorable, Guy? He looks at her the way you look at me — except for when you're cross." Meridwyn whispered.

"I suppose. Although, this is a concern of my cousin. She could be a distraction for him." Guy said, softly.

"For Goodness sake! They're young. Why not let them be?" she asked.

"Luke is one of his top men, Meridwyn. I understand his concern."

"It could be argued that myself and Rhiannon create a distraction for you two, as well." she pointed out.

"We don't let it interfere with our work. Luke is young, so the potential for distraction is more of a problem." he whispered.

"Well, thank God he was there. Floria would've died otherwise." Meridwyn sighed.

"Perhaps. I'm sure we would have figured something out quickly to save her. Nobody was going to die on our watch — except for the deranged woman who did this to them." Guy whispered.

The Sheriff opened the doors of the bedchamber for Thomas. He walked in and set his bag on a chair beside the bed where Lady Rhiannon was reclined upon.

"I'll step out and give you some privacy." the Sheriff said.

"No, George. Stay with me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Of course, my lady." he nodded. Then he closed the doors and stood across from the bed.

"Your husband briefed me on what happened, Milady. Is there pain?" Thomas asked.

"Yes. Can I take a drop or two of the opium you dispensed to me last week?" Rhiannon asked.

"Of course, Milady. But, I need to examine you first."

"You had better see Floria first. That poor girl was hanged for a few moments, Thomas." she frowned.

"I did see her, Milady. She's going to be fine." Thomas nodded.

"Oh. Very good." she smiled.

"I see you have a minor cut on your neck. It just needs a light dressing. It's the kick that concerns me. Where were you kicked?"

"My left side. A couple of times. It was painful walking back here." Rhiannon admitted.

"I need to see it, if that's alright with you."

"Very well." Rhiannon nodded. She carefully lifted her white cotton shift, keeping the rest of her covered with a blanket, so that only the injured area was visible.

The Sheriff frowned when he saw the extensive bruising, along with some bloodied marks present there.

Thomas reached in his bag for gauze to use it to press on the area lightly to get a better determination of the extent of the injury.

"How is it when I press here?" Thomas asked.

"It hurts." she grimaced.

"What about — "

"Gah! That's painful!" Rhiannon exclaimed as a tear slid out of her eye. She grabbed the linens on the bed and held them tight until her knuckles were white.

"Rhiannon!" Nottingham exclaimed. He went to the bedside and grabbed her hand.

"I'm afraid you've had a setback, Milady." Thomas frowned.

"No kidding!" she scoffed.

"No. I mean… that bottom rib was healing, but it's broken again."

"Damn that cursed bitch!" Rhiannon muttered.

"I just need to dress it, then we'll need to bind it again. I'll give you another vial of opium, Milady. Your supply is likely nearly finished." Thomas said.

"Yes, it is getting low. Thank you, Thomas."

"Is that it? No other injuries inside there that you can tell, Thomas?" the Sheriff asked.

"No. Quite a miracle because it appears she was kicked rather forcefully." Thomas said.

"You got that right." Rhiannon sighed.

Thomas took some more materials out of his bag to dress the lady's wounds, and bind her ribs.

Ancel has just escorted Rebeccah back to her quarters. She was full of questions about the reason behind the celebrations being cut short.

"I'm glad you decided to go to the fete, Rebeccah. I'm sure Lady Rhiannon was happy to see you." Ancel said when they got to the door.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't get one moment to congratulate her, or Milord Sheriff." Rebeccah remarked with a curious quirk of her brow.

"Oh. That's rather unfortunate." he said. He positioned himself as if he was ready to take leave of her.

"Come inside, Ancel." she said.

"What?" he asked, somewhat surprised.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

"Well, no. I thought you might want to retire for the night." Ancel said.

"Not before I talk to you." she said.

"I see. Very well." he nodded.

Once they were inside and she closed the door, the questions started.

"What's going on, Ancel?" Rebeccah asked.

"What do you mean?"

"For heaven's sake, Ancel! Don't think it went unnoticed by those who weren't marinating in spirits that the bride and groom went missing. In fact, everyone from their head table was curiously absent for quite awhile, and most of the Black Knights who were visible in the Grand Hall were suddenly nowhere to be seen, too — including you." Rebeccah sighed as she folded her arms.

Ancel parried for a few beats and looked to the floor. He sighed softly, carefully weighing how he should respond.

"Ancel?"

"There was a… problem in the courtyard. The Sheriff, Sir Guy, and Lady Rhiannon's brother responded, as well as the Black Knights. The others probably… just went to their rooms." he said, then looked away. He hated that he had to lie to her, but it wasn't a matter he was given permission to share.

"What kind of problem?" she pressed.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that, my dear." he said, softly.

"Is Lady Rhiannon alright?"

"Yes, Rebeccah. Of that, I can assure you."

"I see. So, that's it? Whatever the threat was has been handled?"

"Yes. I can safely assure you of that, too." Ancel said.

"That was the strangest ending to a wedding fete I've ever witnessed." Rebeccah remarked.

"Yes, but… how often have you attended a Sheriff's wedding? The thing about that is, the Sheriff never gets a day off. He must always be prepared. You might have noticed he hardly imbibed, even today, on the occasion of his wedding. And, there was a problem, to which he quickly responded to. Everyone is safe, because he was prepared." Ancel pointed out.

"You… really do have respect for him?"

"Yes." Ancel nodded.

"Either that, or… you're a very good thespian."

"I've heard that a couple of times in recent weeks. It's not acting, my dear."

"So, it's true. You're committed to your new role?"

"Yes."

"And, the things you said to me earlier — that was true, as well?"

"Yes, Rebeccah."

"You really do… care for me?"

"I do." he nodded. "But, you probably still need time to sort through some things. I understand." he said softly, then looked downcast.

"Are you sure you don't have to be somewhere right now?" she asked.

"I was just going to head to my quarters."

"Would you like to stay for a drink?" Rebeccah asked.

"Tea?"

"No. I have wine in here." Rebeccah said.

"Alright. I think that would be just fine." he smiled.

"Come in and sit, Ancel. I'll get the wine." she smiled.

Luke was inside Floria's quarters. She had just changed out of her gown into a pale pink cotton shift, and was wearing a cream coloured velvet dressing gown over it, which also featured a hood. She was reclined on a sofa in the sitting room. Luke sat in a chair he had placed right beside her.

"I know we were planning to have our own little party in my chambers tonight, my love, but… given the circumstances, that didn't seem right." Luke said softly, as he held her hand.

"You're right. But, this is perfect. I feel… safer with you here." she whispered.

"I'm sorry you endured all of that, Floria. I never would have imagined — "

"Me neither. But, you saved me. I'm alive right now because of you." she whispered.

"Nobody was going to let you die, Floria. Even if I hadn't shown up." Luke said, modestly.

"But, it was you, Luke. You saved me. I will be forever grateful." she whispered.

"You've endured quite a fright, my love. Is there something I can get for you?"

"Could you… send for some warm mead with extra honey added?"

"Of course." he nodded.

Luke stepped outside the chambers to flag down a servant with the request, then he returned to her in a few moments.

"A servant shall be bringing it, Floria." he smiled as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. Then, he resumed his place on the chair.

"Thank you, Luke." she smiled. "I had never seen such fire in you as I did when you showed up inside that shed."

"Yes, well… one look at what had been done to you was all it took."

"I thought I was done, Luke… when I was hanging there. People say their life flashes before their eyes in near death situations. All I saw was my future. Joyous future moments being snuffed out like a flame on a candle." Floria said, as she stared up at the ceiling.

"Don't think on that, my dearest. It's over."

"And, you were in those flashes of the future yet to come. I was so angry at her, that she almost succeeded in ending my life. A life that had barely just begun. She almost separated us forever." Floria whispered as she looked into his eyes.

"I know, my love. I think I know what you mean. I… felt that, too. I was not going to let her win. I had a chance to stop it this time, so I… did." he said softly, then looked downcast. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

"What did you mean by… this time?"

"It's not important, my love. The important thing is you're alive and relatively healthy." he said.

"Luke, you're a little bit older than me. I know you had… some kind of a life before you met me. Tell me, my love. What did you mean?"

"I don't know if now is the right time to tell you this. It has no bearing on us." Luke sighed.

"If you can't feel free to share things with me, Luke, what is the point? Surely, you know by now that I support you no matter what. I'll always be in your corner — if that is your wish, of course."

"Of course, it is. And, it pleases me to hear you say those words." he smiled.

"Then, tell me. You said you had a chance to stop it… this time. What was that comment about, Luke?"

Luke sighed as he looked into her eyes. This was not something he freely spoke of. The Sheriff was the only one in Nottingham who knew. Not even his mates in the Black Knights knew.

"Luke?"

"There was a young woman in my past. I loved her, and planned to marry her. She died tragically, and unexpectedly. She was the only one I ever got close to — until you." he said, softly.

"Oh, my! How awful, my sweet. What was her name?"

"Her name was Emma." he said.

"How long ago did this happen?"

"In June of ninety six."

"Oh, my! I'm sorry, my love. I can't imagine how you endured that. I'd be a miserable wreck if something were to happen to you."

"I was. Until I met Milord Sheriff and he gave me a higher purpose. It helped distract me from the dark thoughts. Then I met you. The first time I looked upon you, I can't describe it, but… I saw… hope." Luke said, softly.

"You did?"

"I was attracted to you the second I saw you, Floria. I never thought that would happen. I was still… missing Emma until that moment." he said.

"So, that's it? That's the secret you accidentally let slip?"

"Yes, I suppose." he said then looked to the floor.

"You're a good man, Luke. That is why… I love you." Floria whispered.

"You… what?"

"I love you, Luke. Is that such a bad thing?"

"No, my love. It isn't. Because… I found out when I saw you in perilous danger earlier that… I love you, too." he whispered.

"Luke." she whispered.

"I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. I swear it, my love." he said as he bent down and kissed her softly.

"Oh, my sweet Luke. I feel better already, just because you're here with me." she smiled.

"Once the mead comes, you'll drink it, and then you shall sleep. I'll be right here with you to make sure you're safe. I don't care how much abuse I'll get for it, but, I'm not leaving your side this night." Luke smiled.

"I am so lucky to have you, my sweet." she said as she squeezed his hand. Then she pulled the hood of her dressing gown up over head.

"You hiding from me now, Floria? With that hood?" Luke chuckled. "I must say, I've never seen a lady's dressing gown feature a hood before. Not that I have a lot of experience with that, just my mother, sisters, a cousin, and… Emma." he sighed.

"No, Luke. Not hiding. And, you've never seen a dressing gown with a hood, because they're not usually made like that. I get chilly frequently, so when I made this, I added the hood. I quite like it." she smiled.

"You… made that?"

"Yes, silly! I make everything I wear. I even made the shift I'm wearing under it." Floria giggled.

"It's beautiful, my love. You're very talented. All of your garments are lovely." Luke smiled.

"Thank you, my sweet. It's heartening that you notice these things. Most men wouldn't really care."

"I guess that is what happens when a guy grows up in a house full of girls. I'm not sure if that's the reason, but I do notice. I wish… " he let the words trail off.

"What do you wish Luke?"

"It is nothing." he sighed.

"You can tell me, Luke." Floria smiled as she squeezed his hand.

"It does no good to wish." he parried.

"Luke, just tell me what you started to say."

"I was going to say that I wish… my sisters could have met you. They would have been thrilled to see your creations." Luke whispered, then looked away.

"But… why couldn't they see them? Someday, I mean? Is it because you're… ashamed to possibly introduce me — "

"They died, Floria." Luke said, abruptly.

"What?" she asked, incredulously.

"My youngest sister, Mary, would be the same age you are if she lived. Felicia, the next born after me, would be seventeen now. They would have loved your gowns and everything else you make." Luke said quietly, then looked downcast.

"Oh, my goodness! You've really been through a rough time, my sweet! I'm so sorry to hear of this." Floria exclaimed as she sat up and squeezed his hand.

"It's alright, my love. I've rambled on and on over things that cannot be changed. I don't usually speak of these things. Like I said, it does no good to wish. Wishes only work for things that are attainable. The last thing I want to do is burden you with these bits of information. I'm fine, Floria. Right now, my concern is for you." Luke explained.

"I'm fine, too. And, it's all because of you. And, whatever is on your mind, you can speak of it with me. I'm not one to gossip." she smiled.

"I've already been selfish. I took attention from you, and somehow turned it on to myself. It's not about me, my love. Tonight, it's about you." Luke smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed her cheek.

"You're the least selfish person I've ever known. But, I understand. In future, just keep in mind what I just said. That you can share with me whatever is on your mind." she said, softly.

"Very well. I will keep that in mind. Rest, my love. You've endured too much this night. The mead should be arriving to us soon. After that, you'll take a drop or two of the belladonna that Thomas sent with you." he said.

"Alright, my love." she nodded.

Drake and Lady Gunilda had just arrived to her cottage. She took her horse to the stables, as Drake stayed seated atop his horse to wait for her.

Within a short time, she was back.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be right now, Drake?" Lady Gunilda asked.

"Well, no. But — "

"Why don't you come in for a bit? I have various spirits on hand and some food to offer. I didn't see you eat a bite at the fete." she frowned.

"I was working, my lady." Drake said.

"Yes. And, you need to be replenished. Your duties are finished. Celestria is gone. Lady Rhiannon is safe. From my standpoint, you've nothing pressing going on right now. Or, do you?" Gunilda asked with a curious quirk of her brow.

"No. Nothing pressing." he nodded.

"Then, accept my offer. I promise I won't bite. No lightning bolts, either." she winked.

"Hmm." he parried as he pondered for a moment.

"Just for a little while. It would make me feel better to feed you and make sure you're hydrated." Gunilda smiled.

"Alright. Very well." Drake said as he quickly dismounted.

He took his horse to a tree on the front of the property and secured it.

"Come in out of the rain, Drake. I'll get a fire started." Gunilda said as she unlocked the door and opened it.

"Why don't you let me start the fire, Lady Gunilda? There's no need for you to do everything."

"Very well. I'm used to handling everything on my own, but, if it would please you do so, then be my guest." she smiled as she removed her cape and hung it on a hook by the door.

"Good." he smiled.

"The fireplace is in the sitting room." she said as she headed toward the kitchen. Then, she stopped and turned around to face him. "What's your poison, Drake?"

"My… what?" he asked, incredulously.

"What variety of spirits do you favour? I have wine, mead, brandy, ale — "

"Wine sounds good, my lady. I often drink ale, but wine seems like a nice choice right now." he smiled.

"Good. I'll return in a few moments."

Drake went over to the fireplace and arranged some tinder in it. Then, he took a fire striker and a flint rock from his doublet pocket and set to work, striking over the tinder until sparks ignited it. Satisfied, he slowly added kindling. He was just about to add a log when Gunilda entered into the room carrying a tray.

"My! You work fast, Drake! Well done! Are you fast with everything you do?" she smirked.

"Well, that would depend. I'm a fast runner. Can quickly light fires, as you've just witnessed. Quick witted, and — "

"I imagine there's… some things you take your time with." she said as she set the tray down on a table in front of the chairs and a soft sofa that were arranged around it.

"I suppose." Drake shrugged.

He looked to the floor. Was she just referring to what he thought she was referring to? He sighed. Don't go there. Dear God. Look at the situation Luke is in? It's clear he's taken a shine to Flower. Whatever he's doing with her, he must do in secret. What kind of hell would ensue if you chose to… bed a lady the Sheriff is considering for the role of espial? Curses! Why must she be so… alluring? Why does she stir something in me, that even Miribelle couldn't?

"Drake? Where'd you go, handsome? You sort of… checked out for a moment?" she asked as she passed him the goblet of wine.

"What did you call me?" he asked, a little taken aback, but stirred all the same.

"Handsome." a beat. "Forgive me. I misspoke. Let's call that… a momentary lapse of reason." Gunilda sighed as she seated herself in a chair.

She curled her legs up under her, and rested the elbow closest to him on the arm of her chair. She leaned her head on her hand, as she sipped some wine from her goblet. She appeared quite at ease with him. He swallowed dryly, tugged at his collar, then took a sip of wine.

"If you think that of me, I'm fine with it, my lady. It just… startled me for a moment."

"Has no one ever called you that before?"

"Well, sure. I suppose, but… it was just… unexpected."

"You are, you know."

"What's that, my lady?"

"Handsome. My Goddess, Drake! I had best mind my manners around you. You are a little rattled, I must say. It's… rather endearing, actually. So much more attractive than a man who is full of himself."

"Uh… I'm not trying to be attractive." Drake shrugged as he took a swill of wine.

"That's the thing, Drake. A good man doesn't feel the need to try. He just is." Gunilda smiled.

"I see." he nodded.

"What's got you rattled, Drake? Is it my age?"

"Excuse me?" he said as he began to cough, having just taken a sip of the wine as she asked the question.

"My goodness, you're on edge! Do try to relax, Drake. You've earned it." she smiled.

"What this about… your age?" Drake asked.

"Well, it's clear I'm older than you are."

"Does it matter?"

"That depends. It might matter to you."

"Okay." he shrugged. "Just… how old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty seven. Probably have at least a decade on you, or… perhaps a bit more." she mused.

"No, my lady. Not quite. I'm thirty." Drake smiled.

"Well, that is certainly a relief." she smirked.

"Why is that? What… would it matter?" he asked, curiously.

"If you can't tell by now that I like you, Drake, I don't know what to say to you. You're a clever man, but, perhaps with matters like this… you're not quite as… perceptive?" Gunilda chuckled.

"My lady. It's very kind of you to say."

"So formal, Drake! I do hope I haven't offended you?"

"No, my lady. It's… quite flattering. I'm just… a bit taken aback by the turn in our conversation, I suppose." Drake shrugged.

"Perhaps you need some food? There's a few different cheeses, bread, and fruit on that tray. There's plates and napkins there, too. Please. Help yourself." she said as she nodded to the tray.

He nodded and leaned toward the tray. He grabbed some grapes and a piece of cheese, then brought the plate to his lap.

"I… like you, too, Lady Gunilda." he said softly.

"Well, that's a relief. Last thing I wish to do is scare you away. You mustn't worry about the magick. I was truthful when I said I don't use it normally." she said.

"There's nothing scary about you, my lady." he said as he nibbled on a grape.

"Really? Then why are you so… subdued, all of a sudden?"

"My employer has rules, Lady Gunilda." he announced.

"Ha! Rules, schmules, Drake. What's his problem? I'll handle him."

"Rules about people employed by him not… mixing in… that kind of way."

"Oh, for Goddess' sake! Has he got something stuck up his bottom, or something? How can he expect his men to properly do their job if they can't enjoy a little… release from time to time?" Gunilda smirked.

"Release?" Drake asked, as he swallowed, dryly.

"Yes, Drake. A release. Surely, you know what I infer?"

"Are you… trying to seduce me?"

"I'm just pontificating, Drake. I've lived long enough on my own that I can't be bothered anymore to mince words." Gunilda smiled.

"I see. So, you've never been married?"

"No. Never married. No children. Probably too old now to have children, quite frankly. Does that help?"

"Help with… what, exactly?" he asked.

Gunilda sighed, then quickly finished her goblet of wine. She set it down on the table beside her, took in a breath, then looked directly into his brown eyes.

Drake looked at her curiously, then took another swill of the wine in his goblet.

"Help you decide if you want to fuck me, Drake." she said, pointedly.

Drake began to cough and some of the wine sprayed onto his lap. He grabbed another napkin to dab at the wine on his breeches.

"Oh, my! Are you… a virgin?" she asked.

"No, Lady Gunilda. I'm not, but… " he whispered, then coughed again.

"Oh, dear. Forgive me. Sometimes I'm a bit too forward for my own good." she frowned.

"No. Under normal circumstances, my reaction would be different. But, two things: one, you will most likely be employed as his espial quite soon. And, two — you and he seem rather familiar with one another." Drake pointed out.

"I see. Yes, we did know each other once. Many moons ago. Nineteen years ago, to be precise." she said.

"I see."

"Nothing to worry about, Drake. I've told you before, I'm good with discretion. It's rather important for me to be so."

"Yes, of course, my lady."

"Then, what other barrier is there? Besides this small table between us?"

"That was… it, my lady."

"Good. Well, you think on that as long as you need to. It's not like I'm going anywhere." she smirked.

"Forgive me, my lady. I've enjoyed your hospitality, and now I feel strange to have misled you, unintentionally." Drake said as he set his plate on the table.

"It's neither here, nor there. I desired your company, regardless. Please. Enjoy the late night fare. Do not feel badly." Gunilda smiled.

"My lady, I do not need to think about whether or not I desire you. I… do. What I need to think on is whether or not I should." Drake said.

"I see."

"I'm not rejecting you. I'm saying… I need to consider that. I work for him, and you most likely will, too. In some ways, your role will even be more important than mine. I have aspirations to move up as one of his top Investigators. Alas, those roles are currently filled; but, if I prove my merit, the opportunity may present itself in future. He has a strict rule about this. If we do this, we'll have to be vigorously discreet." Drake explained.

"I must make a mental note that sometimes it's not always in my best interest to not mince words. Mincing words reduces the likelihood of awkward moments." Gunilda said.

"Forgive me, my lady. I didn't intend to make our evening uncomfortable."

"There's nothing to forgive. If you say no, I'm not going to have a nervous collapse, or throw myself off of a bridge. And, you'd still be welcome here, anytime. No pressure. We can be whatever you wish. Friends. Lovers. Both. Whatever you like, Drake. But… "

"But… what, Lady Gunilda?" Drake asked as he took another sip of his wine.

"My Goddess! Here's the but part: when did he turn from exciting and dangerous, into everyone's boring old great grandsire, Drake? Thank Goddess Geor — he wasn't like this when I knew him. He would have bored me nearly to death!" Gunilda exclaimed. She stood from her seat and headed back into the kitchen.

"My lady?" he asked. He couldn't help but chuckle over the "boring old great grandsire" comment.

"I'm getting the rest of the wine, my dear. It was remiss of me to leave the flask in the kitchen." she said.

"Of course." he nodded.

She returned in moments holding the flask of wine. She generously poured more of it into their goblets, placed it on the table before them, then resumed her position on the chair.

Gunilda looked at Drake and smirked as she brought the goblet to her lips. She took a generous swallow, then continued.

"Well, it would seem we're faced with a bit of a dilemma, aren't we? We get along swimmingly, are both attracted to one another, yet we've a boring old stick in the mud to consider." Gunilda sighed.

Drake chuckled. She had such a way with words.

"In essence, that's about right on point, my lady."

"He needs a good talking to. This is insanity. He cannot expect his men, or anyone who works for him, to go without so that he can feel good about his own leadership. This was his problem. Trust. Sure, he trusted me for the most part, but I always got the sense that he was often questioning every little thing. Not so much with me, but with others." Gunilda said.

"That's why he's Chief Constable, my lady. A good Investigator does question many things. It's in his nature." Drake said.

"How loyal you are, Drake. A very noble quality." she smiled.

"I don't really think about it. I just do what needs to be done."

"Yes, I can tell. It's another part of you that attracts me. Alright, let's forget my brazen demeanour earlier. You've explained what it is you need to think over. I respect that. I'd still like to have you over for a lovely meal, Drake. When the time is right for you, you can tell me your decision. Whether it's when we dine together, or sometime later in the future. Let's just enjoy this lovely evening here together." Gunilda smiled.

"I appreciate that, my lady. I must say, I've never known a woman like you. You're fierce, and nobody around you needs to guess what you're thinking. Most maidens play mind games. You do not. I find that refreshing." Drake smiled as he nibbled on a grape.

"That's kind of you to say. Many men wouldn't like that."

"It's not so much being kind, my lady. That's the truth of it. Now, I know when I leave you tonight, and… probably kiss you goodnight, that I have your consent to take such liberty."

"Indeed. You do have my consent, Drake." Gunilda smirked.

"There's just one thing I should point out, though." he said.

"What's that? Another barrier?"

"Well, it could be. If we're going to dine together, we might want to do that soon." he hinted.

"Very well. How soon, my dear?"

"I'm not certain. It depends on… him. There's an escaped prisoner we're after, as you know." Drake began.

"Right. The one you and your serious friend were asking me about at the tavern on Friday afternoon. The short, round, ginger man, correct?"

"Indeed. That's the one. Searches for him have turned up nothing. The only lead we got was from you, and that didn't give the result we had hoped for. The Sheriff may be sending some of us on a search mission outside of the county in the coming days. He hasn't mentioned it yet, but most of his men expect it, because that is how he operates. If he chooses to go that route, I could be one of the men he sends. None of us ever know until we're asked. So, there's that." Drake sighed as he sipped of the wine.

"I understand. Although, a selfish part of me is hoping you wouldn't be sent out. I would miss your company. Truly."

"I think I would miss yours, as well." Drake admitted, softly.

"How would you feel about seeing me again on the morrow? For dinner, I mean?" Gunilda asked.

"I would like that very much, my lady." Drake smiled.

"Perfect. Come at sundown. Are there any foods you hate, so I know not to prepare them?"

"Not unless you're planning to serve something rare and exotic. Like roasted lizard meat, or something similarly queer." Drake frowned.

"No!" Gunilda chuckled. "There are no lizards in England, Drake."

"Of course. I knew that." he smirked as he took another swill of the pleasing tasting wine.

After everyone except the family had left the private chambers, the Sheriff was explaining to them that his bride wished to see them. He was standing at the bedchamber doors and opened them.

"My lady, are you ready?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes, my love. Send them in." Rhiannon smiled.

Guy stood back closer to the doors with his cousin while the others went to the bedside.

"You sure you're alright with us seeing you, Rhiannon? It is your wedding night, after all." Robert said.

"Really, Robert? For God's sake! Look at me. Do I look like I'm fit for a night of passion to you?" Rhiannon sighed.

The Sheriff looked to the floor and chuckled.

"Well, no. But, it's still your wedding night." Robert flushed at her wording.

"I just took opium, Brother. George will be lucky to get two words out of me shortly." she said.

"Is the pain lessening, then?" Meridwyn asked as she sat on the bed beside her.

"Yes. It's more manageable now." Rhiannon said.

"You do… look better." Isabelle whispered as she started to fan herself.

"Thank you, Sister. Hey! Are you alright?" Rhiannon asked as she sat forward. She was curious about her sister in law. Her colour was off, and she didn't look right.

"I'm… fine, dearest. I might have… imbibed too much." Isabelle said.

"Are you sure, Belle?" Robert asked.

"No, she can't be." Meridwyn said. "I don't know what she's talking about. I didn't see her drink much at all."

"Dearest, you had better sit down." Robert said.

"I'm fine, Robert. Truly." Isabelle said. She instinctively walked over to the window. She hoped the cool air would help her to feel better.

"Robert, something's off with her. She's pale looking." Rhiannon whispered.

"Yes. I shall insist she head straight to bed." Robert nodded.

"I should have stopped her from wanting to follow after you, Rhiannon. Maybe it was all too much of a shock to her?" Meridwyn mused.

"No, it's more than that. I don't think she's well. Maybe she's coming down with something?" Rhiannon whispered.

"That was quite the scene earlier, Cousin." Guy said.

"Yes. Who knew one deranged consort with a shoulder injury could be capable of all that? I'm just glad it's all behind us. That part, anyway." the Sheriff nodded.

"Still don't understand why she took Floria."

"There's no point trying to understand. She was deranged, Gis. The good thing is no one was seriously harmed. My lady shall be fine when her rib heals. Now, Floria is settled." he began, as his eyes narrowed. "Gunilda was… escorted… back." he sighed, then put his palm to his forehead. He looked to the floor and shook his head.

"What is it, Cousin?"

"I just realized something." he muttered.

"What?"

"I let Luke take Floria back to her rooms. I assigned Drake to escort Gunilda home." a beat. "I don't know if you've been paying attention to those two, but it's looking like another Luke and Floria scenario that's brewing." he said quietly, with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Drake and Lady Gunilda?" Guy asked in a whisper.

"Yes." he sighed. Then his eyes widened as another thought came to him.

"Cousin?" Guy asked.

"Earlier this evening, I asked Ancel to do a sweep of the second floor, looking for the whore. I specifically asked him to check on Rebeccah to see if she might have seen the consort. Ancel used to see Rebecca before he was brought here." a beat. "What was I thinking, Gis? I'd wager Ancel escorted Rebeccah to her rooms after he left the scene in the shed. There's two of my top men, and one of the best of the rest of them… and I pushed them into the arms of women who will divert their attention from their duties. Curses!"

"Easy, George. You had other things on your mind. It was a very important occasion, and you were concerned about keeping your bride safe." Guy pointed out.

"Well, I might not have considered the finer points then, but I can do so now. Tell my wife I shall return to her soon." he instructed.

"What? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to talk to Luke. I want eyes on Drake, in particular. I need to know when he arrived back here." the Sheriff said.

"Does it really matter right now? Your bride needs you. I can talk to Luke about it." Guy offered.

"No. He'll listen to me and do what I ask without argument. I won't be long."

"Very well. I'll tell her." Guy nodded.

A short time later, the Sheriff was knocking on Luke's door. He stood there a bit, impatiently tapping a boot on the floor, then he knocked again.

Curiously, there was no response. He knew that Luke might not have been feeling the best of late, but the lad was certainly not deaf. He sighed when he realized where Luke must be. He walked away in frustration, then headed to Floria's quarters.

Within a short time he was standing at Floria's door, awaiting an answer to his knock. Within moments, the door opened. He frowned.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here?" the Sheriff huffed.

"Milord? What's happening? It's your wedding night. Shouldn't you be with Lady Rhiannon?" Luke asked, somewhat bewildered.

"I was, and I'll be back with her soon. Don't know if you noticed, but, it's not going to be a typical wedding night in our chambers, Luke. I'm not about to ravish her in the state she is in! Never mind me. The hell are you doing in there?" Nottingham asked as he folded his arms, nodding behind Luke.

"She nearly died, Milord! She was still frightened half to death. I didn't feel right leaving her. Surely, you under — "

"Wasn't she given something to help her sleep?"

"Yes. She's finally asleep now. What difference does that — "

"Oh, I bet she's sleeping peacefully, Luke — after you fucked the sense out of her." Nottingham sighed.

"Milord, I did no such thing." Luke sighed. With that comment, he stepped out of Floria's chambers and softly closed her door.

"Really? You expect me to believe she's in there, wearing her cutesy little night clothes, tucked in under a blanket — and you didn't touch her." the Sheriff scoffed.

"That is the truth of it. For God's sake, Milord. Not everything is about… that." Luke sighed.

"A young, virile man like you, Luke? Ha ha! Sure."

"Milord, she is only fifteen years!" Luke exclaimed in a whisper.

"Tell that to the former list of clients she serviced." Nottingham pointed out with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I'm not about to argue with you about why she did what she did in desperation to save some money. She didn't have a long list of options. That said, the idea of bedding her is a long way off. For God's sake, she's the same age that my youngest sister, Mary, would be now. Don't think that never crosses my mind." Luke sighed.

"Then, perhaps you should imagine what your sister might think of this… whatever arrangement you have going on with Floria." the Sheriff smirked.

"Noted. What's going on, Milord? Surely, you're not just here to check that my clothes are still on me." Luke sighed.

"I want you to pay attention. Be my eyes. I need to know when Drake arrives back to his rooms, and, for that matter, Ancel, as well." the Sheriff said.

"What? You want me to spy on them?" Luke asked, incredulously.

"I want to know when they finally show up to retire for the night, Luke."

"They would wonder why I'm lurking in the corridor, I'm sure, Milord."

"Of course, they would. That's why you're going to delegate." he grinned.

"Milord, is this really necessary?"

"Surely, you haven't been so consumed with dear, innocent Floria that you haven't noticed sparks flying between Lady Gunilda and Drake! And, you've got eagle eyes, lad. Surely, you noticed Ancel escorting Rebeccah into the Grand Hall? Did you know he used to court Rebeccah?" Nottingham whispered.

"He did tell us something about that." Luke said.

"I'd wager he escorted her back to her rooms after the Captain made the announcement that the fete was over." he sighed.

"What if they're already in their quarters, sound asleep? Are we to knock on their doors for confirmation?"

"It's doubtful they would be, especially Drake. He should be arriving back now, if he hasn't already. As for Ancel, that's hard to say. He did tell me when I assigned him to search the second floor that Rebeccah wasn't speaking to him. Truthfully, Ancel doesn't concern me as much as Drake. Ancel is very keen to please at the moment. Drake is another matter. The chemistry between he and Gilda is palpable. If he hasn't bedded her already, it's coming." Nottingham opined with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Last I heard, he was going on about some maiden named Miribelle." Luke shrugged.

"How long ago was that?" he asked, pointedly.

"Hmm. I guess that's awhile ago now. A couple of months, maybe?"

"I don't think that maiden has crossed his mind since he met Gilda, frankly."

"Milord, we are all sworn to our duties to you, first and foremost. Neither Drake, nor Ancel would let a lady, no matter how attractive she is, shift their focus from their obligations." Luke pointed out.

"I can't speculate on their thought processes, lad. Neither should you. They are Black Knights, but, underneath their uniforms, they're men. Flesh and blood. They have needs like every other man — except for you, it would seem." he smirked. "Now, I don't know about Rebeccah. She doesn't appear to be the type to lure a man to her bed. But, I can comment on Gilda. She is a seductress. And, she has made it clear without directly saying so, that she has her eyes set on Drake. She is most likely going to be employed as my espial, Luke. Imagine the conflict of interest that would create if she gets tangled up with one of the Knights?" Nottingham pointed out in a whisper.

"Understood." Luke sighed. "Very well. I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but I'll do it. I'll see what I can find out." Luke relented.

"Good. Now, you sure you're not lying about whether or not you fucked Floria into a peaceful slumber?"

"You want details?" Luke huffed.

"Just the basics. I don't need graphic ones." Nottingham teased.

"Alright. Here's what happened: I brought her inside. She went to her bedchamber and changed into her shift and a dressing gown with a hood. Then, she reclined on the sofa in the sitting room. I summoned for warm mead for her. Once it came, she drank it, then took the belladonna drops that Thomas prescribed. I kissed her, and she fell asleep. That's it, Milord." Luke sighed.

"My! So gallant of you, Luke!" Nottingham chuckled.

"I told you, Milord. She's very young. In ten years time it won't matter, but right now, a six year age difference is… weird."

"So, you think she'll wait ten years for you to bed her, Luke?" Nottingham chuckled.

"I was merely making a point. If the time comes for that, I want her to know it's because I care for her, not because I'm only interested in what's between her legs." Luke said.

"Ah, so you admit you do care for her, then?"

"I didn't say that directly. But, I guess I do. How could I not be concerned after what we witnessed earlier, Milord? I promised her I'd stay with her tonight, so that she could sleep peacefully, knowing she's protected. I'm only minding her. I'm not here to take advantage of her." Luke explained.

"I'm only agreeing to this because I know you're not lying, Luke. Fine. Find someone to be the eyes on Drake and Ancel's doors. Particularly, Drake. Then, you can get back to your child minding, or whatever it is you're doing in there. Don't forget to sleep. Tomorrow, we are going to visit Samson Fingle. We're bringing Nichol with us. I'm hoping it encourages him to accept my offer."

"Very well. Thank you, Milord." Luke nodded.

"For what, Luke?"

"For not giving me grief over my decision to stay and watch over Floria this night. I'm… worried about her."

"I trust you, Luke. You're the most honest of anyone in my employ, probably everyone I know — even my wife. You looked directly in my eyes when you answered my pointed questions. And, what you said about the age gap makes sense. At your age, even I would have considered the same thing. And, that's coming from a man who liked to fuck a lot back then." he grinned.

"Right. Okay, then." Luke nodded.

"In the morning, I want a report."

"Very well, Milord. I'll go now and get this sorted." Luke nodded, then went on his way.

When he returned to his private chambers, everyone was preparing to leave.

"Everything sorted, Cousin?" Guy asked.

"Yes. It took a little convincing, but he's on top of it. Oh, and by the way. You'll be in charge for a short time on the morrow when I take the lads and Nic into town to meet with Fingle."

"Very well."

"Any word on Gervase?"

"Yes. Gerad arrived here soon after you left, looking for Thomas, while Alex stayed with Gervase. We caught Thomas before he was about to head to his manor. Turns out, she hit Gervase over the head with something. Knocked him out cold, and it looked like he'd been dragged away from the stables. Don't know how the hell she managed that?" Guy shrugged.

"Curses! Thank Zeus we're finally rid of that bitch."

"Indeed, Cousin. Gervase isn't looking too good right now, but he came around, and Thomas was pleased about that. I got someone else to mind the stables for a day or two while Gervase recovers." Guy explained.

"Good." he nodded.

Robert was assisting Isabelle toward the door, as she seemed quite unsteady on her feet.

"Are you alright, Lady Isabelle?" the Sheriff asked.

"I shall be fine, Milord." she nodded.

"You look a little pale." he said.

"Must be all of the excitement, Milord. I'm sure I'll be fine after a rest." she smiled.

He bid them goodnight, then proceeded toward the bedchamber. Lady Rhiannon was standing by the window looking out of it. He walked toward her and enveloped her in his arms from behind.

"My lady." he whispered. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I was feeling a bit warm. Perhaps the opium did that?" Rhiannon mused.

"How's the pain?"

"It's much better, my sweet." she whispered. She unfastened the sash on her dressing gown and opened it so that the chill breeze coming in would cool her down, and rested against him.

He moved his hands closer around her, and realized he was touching skin, not the cotton fabric of her shift.

"My lady… are you naked under that dressing gown?"

"Yes. I removed my shift after everyone left." she said as she turned around to face him.

"Even bandaged, you're still irresistible. Perhaps you'd better fasten your dressing gown around you again?"

"I'm feeling better, my sweet." she smirked as she shrugged out of it and let it fall to the floor.

She reached out and began to massage him over his breeches.

"You sure you're fit for this?" he whispered as he kissed her hungrily and touched her intimately. He was pleased to see she was ready for him.

"I am. I want you, sugar."

"What's gotten into you? Is it the opium?"

"A little wine, and a little opium. But, I'd rather it was you that gets into me." she smirked.

"Then, that's what you're going to get." he growled.

She helped him quickly remove his tunic, and breeches. Then she positioned herself on all fours on the bed so that he could take her from behind.

Nottingham licked his lips and got up on the bed behind her. She needed no coaxing from him. She was more than ready, and so was he. He guided himself into her and began to move, then thrust more forcefully when she begged him not to be too gentle.

"You drive me insane with lust, my lady." he whispered into her ear.

"Give it to me, my love. Harder! Slap me if you want to. You feel so good inside of me." she purred.

He tentatively slapped her buttocks while he thrusted, wondering how she'd respond.

"Mmm. Just like that, lover! Yes! Do it again!"

"Ah! So you've been a bad girl, have you? Ha!" he growled as he slapped her again while he thrusted hard into her.

"Yes, sugar. Yes! Give it to me, hard! Don't stop!" she pleaded, squealing with pleasure.

God damn, lady. You're better than any slut I've ever fucked! He thought as he continued to please her, thrusting hard inside of her, and slapping her butt cheeks every time she asked him to. Then he lightly pulled her hair near the end of it.

"Oh, fuck! Yes, George! Give it to me, lover! Harder!" she moaned. Give me a child, my love!

"God damn, lady! You feel so… fucking good." he exclaimed as he continued to thrust into her.

When it was over, he held her beside him, their bodies still beaded in sweat. He had his arm around her, as she nestled into him. He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head.

"You surprise me every time, my angel." he whispered.

"Can't have you boring of me, my love. Besides, I liked it."

"Yes. I can tell. I don't want to hurt you, though, so perhaps we should put a lid on our desires for a couple of days now." he suggested.

"The opium helped."

"Yes, but you mustn't overdo it with that stuff, Rhiannon. It's still a poison of sorts. The last thing I want is for you to need to take that for me to be intimate with you." he warned.

"I understand. I didn't want to deprive you on our wedding night, so when the opium worked so well, I knew I could handle it tonight. I was glad, because I wanted you."

"It was a sweet surprise, because I wanted you, too." he said. "Although, it only worked because you're covered with a bandage. That bruising is… bad, Rhiannon. It's quite extensive. There's no way I could have if you hadn't been covered. I'm certain." he frowned.

"It will fade, sugar. Now, what happened to my wedding gown?"

"I set it aside for disposal." he said.

Rhiannon sat up abruptly, and grabbed her dressing gown.

"You did what?" she asked, incredulously.

"It's ruined, my angel. The train thing was torn off, and it's bloodied. Why on earth would you want to keep it? As a reminder of what the whore did to you?" Nottingham asked as he sat up and leaned against the pillows.

"You didn't send it out already, did you, George?" she asked as she put on her dressing gown and fastened the sash around her waist.

"No, not yet." he replied with his eyes narrowed, curiously.

"Then, where is it, George? I don't see it anywhere?"

"It's in the tub in the bath chamber, my lady. It was a dripping mess."

Rhiannon quickly went into the bath chamber. The gown was laying in a heap in the tub. She sighed as she picked it up and carefully draped it over the tub. Then, she returned to the bedchamber.

"We are not disposing of that gown, George." Rhiannon announced with her hands on her hips.

"What? But, Rhiannon… it's a total wreck of a thing now?"

"All it needs is a good cleaning, and I'll have Madam Oberon fix the mess at the shoulders that the consort ruined. The whore sawed off the entire train to use it to gag Floria and I. That gown shall be kept with care." she said, firmly.

"Whatever for? You planning to get married again?" he chuckled.

"No, silly! We're keeping it for one of our children. Obviously, if we have another daughter, she will wear it on her special day. She can cut it up into whatever design she desires. If we have a son, his wife shall wear it, and she will be free to do to it anything she wants to make it wearable as if she were our daughter, too." Rhiannon explained.

"You're serious."

"I'm dead serious, George. It would have been nice if my parents had thought to do so, but they didn't. Meridwyn has done the same thing with her gown, because Sir Guy now has her convinced they're having a daughter. I thought it was lovely that she was doing that. And, we're going to do the same."

"Alright, my angel." he chuckled. "It seems like a lot of effort for something that won't be needed until far into the future, but if that's your wish, then have at it. It's not like we'll have no place to put it." he shrugged.

"Good. I have it draped over the tub. Hands off of it, George. Tomorrow, I'm taking it back to Madam Oberon, with hopes that she can salvage it for our child's future."

"The one we don't have, yet."

"Yes. But, if you keep giving it to me like you did earlier, you might be surprised. We might be getting one by next autumn, or earlier, depending on how much we… get close." she smirked.

"I'm ready for you anytime, angel; but… not when your entire left side is a bruised and bloodied mess. That worked earlier because I couldn't see it, you swore the pain was gone, and the… positioning was better for you. We're going to let you heal before we do that again." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"Autumn it is, then." she grinned, then climbed back on the bed beside him.

"Alright, Rhiannon." he chuckled, then put his arm around her.

The following morning, Robert woke up to an empty bed. He sleepily felt around the bed and on the pillows beside him, then he opened his eyes.

He could hear rain falling outside the window. The room was chill as the fire had gone out. He was thinking he should get it going again. He grabbed his robe and put it on. As he got out of bed, he noticed Isabelle was standing at the window, leaning out of it.

"Dearest! Why didn't you wake me?" Robert asked as he walked toward her.

"For what, Robert? So, you can see me… like this?"

"We should have Thomas see to you. Something is wrong, Isabelle."

"Robert, nothing is wrong. Has it been that long that you've already forgotten how it starts?" Isabelle asked.

"What are you saying, wife? Are you telling me you're… with — "

"What do you think, Robert?"

"Isabelle! Can it be?" he smiled as he put his arms around her.

"Robert. Don't." Isabelle said.

"Don't… what?" he asked with his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"There's no point in getting excited. Perhaps that's what we did wrong in the past? Got too caught up with joyous anticipation — and look where that got us?" Isabelle sighed.

"My dearest heart, that was then. This time is different."

"Oh, it's different, alright. I'm older now, so… I imagine that will bode quite well for us, won't it, Robert?" she remarked, facetiously.

"How long have you known, Belle?"

"I've been feeling off for close to a fortnight. Ten days, I would guess. It wasn't until today I finally realized. But, when I think of how I've been feeling off and on, it all makes sense."

"Is this why you were brushing everyone off with their inquiries into your welfare last night?"

"My sweet husband. You're such a clever man, yet, in some matters you're obtuse — if you'll forgive me for saying so." a beat. "It's bad enough we will be ultimately disappointed. I'm not about to put that on our family and friends, too."

"We don't know how this will turn out, dearest." Robert said.

Isabelle extricated herself from his embrace and hung her head out of the window again. When the feeling of nausea passed, she turned to face him.

"Every time we lose one of our children, I die a little inside, Robert. You don't understand. Four times we've been through this already. I'm not sure if I'm able for that again."

"Assuming everything runs smoothly, and we pass the stage where they were lost to us, then…when should we announce it?" Robert asked.

"I don't know. It was bad enough when we lost our babies — and most people wouldn't have considered them babies. They had far to go yet in the pregnancies. Then, I was present for Rhiannon's delivery. Our niece was fully formed, Robert! She looked like a tiny wee doll!" Isabelle exclaimed with a gasp.

"I know, my love. I saw her tiny face and hands when we christened her. You were waiting at her grave at that time with Sir Guy and Meridwyn."

"I never really gave it any thought before that day. I didn't think a child could be lost at that stage, too. But, I guess anything is possible? I think we should wait quite a time to announce it. There's a very good chance this will all be over soon, anyway. I'll probably have passed it by Yule." she shrugged.

"Isabelle." he whispered. "There's more than just me who love you. Rhiannon and Lady Meridwyn are already noticing that you're unwell. Even Milord Sheriff has noticed it." Robert pointed out.

"They're just going to have keep wondering, or accept my excuses. We're going to be mourning again soon, Robert. That will be difficult enough to bear. Every cursed time it happens… it destroys me." she said, softly.

"Oh, Belle. Try not to think on that right now. One day at a time. You might be surprised." he smiled as he held her close.

"I can't allow myself to be excited about this, Robert." Isabelle said, simply.

"I want Thomas to see you, my love."

"What? What is the point, Robert?"

"He is a medicus! He is sworn to keep his visits with you confidential, and, he may have suggestions on how to make this pregnancy work. He's a wealth of knowledge, Isabelle. Let's use him." Robert urged her.

"Hmm. You do have a good point. Alright. But, if something goes wrong, I don't want him telling Rhiannon. Poor lady has been through enough."

"He wouldn't. You know that, dearest."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." she sighed.

"I'll send for him today, my love."

"Robert?" she whispered as tears welled in her eyes.

"What is it, my darling Belle?"

"I'm frightened."

"Oh, my sweet wife." he whispered as he held her close to him.

Isabelle clung to him fast and silently wept onto his chest.

"It will be alright, my love. You shall see. Things are going well for us, and we have family around us now. That might make all the difference in the world toward a better outcome. When there's less things to worry about, it makes many things easier — even that. If it works, that will be a great blessing to us. If it doesn't, it doesn't matter. I'll still consider myself blessed, because I have you." he smiled.

"Oh, Robert! You're the best man in the world!" Isabelle exclaimed as she kissed him softly.

"I don't know about that, dearest" Robert muttered, modestly.

"I don't care about how your sister teases you about being boring and sedate. She doesn't understand. I couldn't have asked for a better husband if I tried." Isabelle smiled. Then she put her hand to her mouth as her face grew even more pale.

"Isabelle?"

She pushed him aside and quickly went to the window again, leaning her head out of it. And then, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll go and see who's at the door, my dear. Just… take some deep breaths. I'll return directly." Robert said as he patted her back.

He quickly left the bedchamber, forgetting to close the doors, and went to the door to open it. He was a bit surprised to see who greeted him.

"Just waking up, Robert?" Nottingham asked, noting he was wearing his robe.

"No, I just… haven't had a moment to properly dress." Robert said.

"Ah! Of course! Sometimes, it's a great way to start the day." he winked.

"What is, George?" Robert asked, genuinely not quite getting the joke since he was too concerned about his wife to think straight.

"You don't need to pretend, Robert. For the love of Zeus! You're married! It's perfectly acceptable to want to — "

"I think you have the wrong idea. You couldn't be more far off the mark, Nott — "

Just then, they both heard a loud retching noise coming from the bedchamber. Nottingham looked over Robert's shoulder and could see the back of Lady Isabelle in the distance. She was hanging her head out of the window in the bedchamber. The way Rhiannon would when she felt morning nausea when…

And then, it was like someone lit a candle inside Nottingham's mind.

The Sheriff let himself in and slowly walked toward the bedchamber doors.

"Wait. George?" Robert called after him.

The Sheriff ignored him and continued until her arrived at the doors.

"Uh… Lady Isabelle?"

Isabelle stiffened upon recognizing the voice calling out to her. She slowly turned around to face him. She was as white as the driven snow.

"I think I know what will help you. It helped Rhiannon, and also Lady Meridwyn. You need some batwing tea." Nottinhgam casually stated.

"Some what?" Isabelle exclaimed, putting her hand to her mouth.

"Rhiannon swore it was the only thing that helped her nausea."

"But — "

"You're with child, aren't you? I… uh… recognize the signs."

Isabelle just stood, frozen. She stared at him, still with her hand covering her mouth, and began to tremble.

"I seem… to be missing something. Clearly. Regardless, we need Thomas to see to you." he said, as he folded his arms.

"I'm not — " Isabelle started to lie then quickly turned around to hang her head out of the window again.

"If she's not with child, what the hell did you do to her, Robert? Did you release into her mouth, or something?"

"Wh… WHAT?" Robert asked, incredulously.

Isabelle found some resolve within her and quickly turned around.

"I beg your pardon, Milord! That's outrageous!"

"Is it? I don't see a tray anywhere, so it's obviously not because of something you ate. Well… not something in a food category, anyway." the Sheriff smirked.

"What? Look, I love my husband, but I'm not about to do… that." Isabelle sighed, shaking her head.

Robert put his palm to his forehead as he hung his head, then shook his head and sighed.

"Right. Then, that leaves only one other explanation since you're normally quite hale." he said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Curses!" Isabelle exclaimed.

"If you two are expecting a child, what is the big deal? You're married, and have inferred you both want a child. Why hide it?"

"Alright. So, you know." Robert sighed.

"Robert!" Isabelle admonished.

"What in the devil is going on? Are you two not happy, or something? What the hell am I missing?" Nottingham asked with a shake of his head, addressing them both.

"We are very happy, George. That's… not the problem. We've been… down this road before." Robert said.

"And, it's a road that leads to nowhere — except grief." Isabelle added.

"I understand that. Look, we just lost Sela. Yet, last night, Rhiannon was giving me grief about setting her torn and bloodied wedding gown aside for disposal. She wants it preserved for the future of our child. Sure, she doesn't know about our son, but she's already thinking in terms of a future child." he explained, attempting to reassure her.

"We've lost four babies already, Milord. Earlier on than Sela, but, that is the stumbling block we're faced with." Robert said.

"Please, Milord! You mustn't tell Rhiannon. I'm more than certain I'm carrying a child right now, but I'm also certain it will be passed by Yule. Robert and I are already bracing ourselves for the grief yet to come. No one else needs to shoulder that burden with us. We're… sadly, inured to this." Isabelle said, softly.

"I still think Thomas should see you, Lady Isabelle. He would have recommendations for you." the Sheriff said.

"That was exactly what I told her." Robert nodded.

"And, I agree to it. But, you must promise me you won't tell Rhiannon. I'm sorry to ask you to keep this from her, but she's endured quite enough." Isabelle explained.

"Very well." he nodded.

"This will all be over soon, regardless. There's no need to involve anyone else… in this." Isabelle muttered, then turned around again to hang her head out of the window.

"She… refuses to be happy about this news, George." Robert whispered.

"Yes. I can see that. I suppose, it's understandable." he said as he began to walk back out into the den.

"Was there something you wanted to see me about?" Robert asked.

"Yes. Two things. Rhiannon's gift, and to tell you I'm taking my top men into town later to meet with Fingle. Guy will be in charge in my stead, and I wanted you to assist him. But, if Isabelle isn't well… "

"I'm sure it will be fine. She should be more like herself in an hour or so. Although, I do need to go into town myself at some point to meet with the Barrister, Ranulf Verdun, if you recall."

"Yes. I'd forgotten about that point. Delegate the Captain to assist Guy if you need to. I do need to know the Barrister's thoughts on that estate that Gunilda took over."

"Very well." Robert nodded.

"I'll send for Thomas so that you can stay with her."

"I appreciate that."

"I won't breathe a word of this, even though I know Rhiannon would be thrilled for you both."

"Thank you. Isabelle and I have talked about it. If things work out she wants to wait a time to share this. Except, she's quite convinced we'll have yet another poor outcome." Robert frowned.

"Yes. I can tell that, too. Sadly. This should be a joyous time for you both. I'm sorry that it's not, Robert. I do understand, however." he said.

"Indeed. I'll get that dagger for you. I think I put it in the bedchamber for safekeeping. Just give me a moment." Robert said. Then he headed into the bedchamber.

Within moments, he returned, carrying the rectangular wooden box it was placed in and passed the box to the Sheriff.

"I think she'll like it, George. Especially since she seems to like to borrow yours often." Robert scoffed.

"Indeed." Nottingham nodded as he took the box from him. "I've a couple of other things to gift to her that aren't as… utilitarian as this. I think she'll be quite pleased."

"I'm sure she will be."

"I'll send for Thomas before I take this to her. Take your time in here, Robert. You're obviously needed. Nobody except for myself and Thomas will know about this." he assured him.

"Thank you, George." Robert nodded.

The Sheriff took the box with him, and headed downstairs to the Council Quarters to look for the Scribe, and to wait for Luke.

He found the Scribe in the corridor outside the meeting room.

"Scribe!" he called out.

"Yes, Milord?" the Scribe answered as he walked toward him.

"I need you to summon Thomas Crumwell to come at his earliest convenience. Meaning, sometime soon. Today."

"Very well. Shall I tell him to report to your chambers?"

"No. He needs to go to Robert's chambers."

"Is Robert ill, Milord?" the Scribe asked, nervously.

"No. Lady Isabelle is a bit under the weather. As always, you shall keep this information to yourself." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Of course, Milord. I'll take care of that now." the Scribe nodded, then left to carry out the task.

After the Scribe left, he headed toward the door of the meeting chamber, as Nichol caught up to him.

"When are we headed into town, George? I don't see the men we're taking." Nichol asked.

"Probably not until after midday. I highly doubt any of them slept much last night. And, it was only work related with one of them." the Sheriff sighed.

"Oh. The other two were drinking, I'm guessing?"

"Perhaps, but doubtful that was the main cause of their insomnia." the Sheriff commented with an eye roll as he opened the door.

"I see. I'll leave you to it, then. It appears you have a meeting with someone soon. Just let me know when you wish to leave."

"No, Nic. Join me." Nottingham directed as he held the door for him.

"Oh. I get it. It's me you wish to meet with. Am I in trouble, or something?"

"No. But, perhaps, if you can see for yourself the variety of codswallop I'm dealing with regarding a couple of my men, you'll understand why you're needed around here." he said with a knowing quirk of his brow. He gestured for Nichol to enter the room.

"Well, that piqued my interest!" Nichol chuckled then stepped inside. He walked toward the table and took a seat in one of the chairs.

"Who are we meeting with, George?"

"I'm expecting Luke." he said. He set the small wooden box on a small table.

"Ah, yes! Your golden boy." Nichol smirked.

"There's a good reason he's one of my top men. It's much more than his like-ability factor, Nic. Stick around, and you shall see."

"Funny. That's nearly exactly what he said to me about you."

"Whatever." Nottingham said, dismissively.

"Be careful, George. Everyone has noticed you favour him. Except for… Luke."

"I am aware. But, I'm also not blind to the talent that many of the others offer. This is why I'm trying to stay on top of their non work related interests."

"I see."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. The Sheriff called out for them to enter. The door opened and Luke stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Then, Luke noticed Nichol seated at the table.

"Oh. Forgive me, Milord. You're meeting with Nichol. I can come back a bit later."

"No, Luke. We can discuss this with Nichol present. I asked him to join us. If he's going to accept the positions I offered him, he needs to be kept in the loop. He understands the importance of confidentiality." Nottingham said.

"Very well." Luke nodded.

"So, tell me what you discovered about our two Knights in question, Luke." he said, pointedly.

"Alright. Ancel was seen returning to his chambers soon after you met with me last night. He went inside, stayed there all night, and hasn't emerged as yet." Luke said.

"A little late for him, but it seems reasonable. Good. Now, what about Drake?"

"That's… another matter." Luke parried with a sigh.

"Let me guess. He hasn't returned at all. God damn it!"

"No, not quite that bad, Milord."

"Well? Don't keep me guessing, Luke. Did he arrive there at dawn, or something?"

"It was a couple of hours or so after you and I talked. That's when he arrived." Luke said softly, then looked to the floor.

"WHAT?" the Sheriff exclaimed, incredulously.

"Relax, friend. He probably went to the tavern, or something?" Nichol shrugged.

"Bollocks! If he would go there, he wouldn't go alone. He was assigned to take Gilda home! She's not that far away. He should have been back long before then!" the Sheriff huffed. Then he turned to Luke. "What state was he in upon arrival? Disheveled and drunk, I imagine." he scoffed.

"I didn't hear anything about that, Milord. He didn't appear drunk to Beric." Luke shrugged.

"Humming to himself in some kind of euphoric state?" he asked.

"No. I'm sure Beric would have mentioned that if that were the case." Luke said.

"And, what about you, Luke?"

"Excuse me, Milord?"

"What happened when Floria awoke this morning and found her dream lover still seated beside her when she opened her eyes, wearing her barely there, cutesy little nightclothes? How long did it take before you fucked her back to sleep?" Nottingham asked as he folded his arms.

"She hasn't awakened, Milord. And, I explained to you last night why I was with her, and what I hadn't done, and won't be doing." Luke sighed.

"Now, George. That was harsh!" Nichol chuckled.

"See what I'm dealing with, Nic? It's like they've all been drinking lust potion! How the hell are we supposed to achieve anything around here when all they want to do is fuck?" the Sheriff huffed in exasperation.

"Maybe you should send a few of them to the brothel, George? Let them get it out of their systems. This is what whores were made for." Nichol smirked.

"What? We don't know what they were doing last night. Forgive me, but, I think you're both making mountains out of mole hills right now." Luke said.

"Really? That's your sage advice, Luke?" the Sheriff scoffed.

"I actually didn't offer advice, Milord."

"No. Just an opinion." he sighed.

"What if it's not lust? What if… it's love?" Luke opined.

"Ah, ha, ha! Is he for real, George? What world did he come from, again?" Nichol laughed.

"I told you where I hail from, Nichol." Luke said.

"Yes. York County, if memory serves me right." Nichol smirked. Then he addressed the Sheriff. "Well, I guess it's safe to say this lad has no affiliation with the cursed Celts. Not a flowery, pansy boy like him!" Nichol chuckled.

"Right. Let's dial it back a bit. What the hell is this preposterous notion about love about, Luke? Surely, you're not serious?" Nottingham asked, his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"Why would you go straight to assuming it's about lust?" Luke asked, pointedly.

"Ah, ha, ha, ha! Stop, lad. You're killing me!" Nichol laughed.

Luke looked at the both of them, shaking his head.

"Luke, we know a few things, because we've seen a few things in our time. You're quite young, and a little starry eyed yet, if you'll pardon me for saying so." Nottingham began.

"That's quite politely put, George. Kind of surprising, coming from you! I would call it naive as fuck, but, that's just me." Nichol chuckled.

"Whatever. I think you two are jumping way ahead of yourselves in your assumptions about some loyal, solid Knights, and I'm not being funny about it." Luke sighed.

"Ha! He's a gem, mate. No wonder you're keeping him around." Nichol snorted.

The Sheriff sighed and shot Nichol a scornful look before he continued.

"Is it naïveté, or… are you trying to deflect and throw us off, Luke?" the Sheriff asked, pointedly.

"Pardon, Milord?" Luke asked, while his eyes narrowed, curiously.

"You heard me. I know you did."

"It was only a suggestion, Milord. I honestly have no idea. But, I do know they are loyal to you, as I am." Luke said.

The Sheriff put his hands together and began to pace.

"You see, here's where that theory falls apart, Luke. I can't speak on what's going on with Ancel and Rebeccah. I can speak about Gilda, though — "

"From a memory nearly as old as I am. Correct?" Luke asked.

The Sheriff stopped in his tracks as he whirled around to face him.

"A tiger can't change its stripes. Neither can she. Has she ever been married? A clue: no! I doubt she's ever been in a lasting courtship with anyone. She's attracted to him. That is as plain as day. Is it love? Ha! It's not. Trust me." he scoffed.

"People probably said the same thing about you when your betrothal to Lady Rhiannon was first announced, Milord, in fairness… " Luke replied, weakly.

"Why the hell are you arguing with me about this? Did you stash some of the leaves from that cursed plant we took from you on Saturday? Get over here. I want to look into your eyes!" the Sheriff ordered him.

"I did no such thing, Milord." Luke sighed. Still, he walked toward him.

"Hmm. Your eyes appear normal. Why the hell is your reasoning so abnormal, then?"

"Because… you're making assumptions based on one witnessed report of his arrival to his rooms last night."

"It's a start. And? What else?"

"It… feels strange to be investigating my mates." Luke admitted.

"I'm sure it does, Luke; but, that's the nature of the beast. Sometimes we're called upon to investigate delicate matters we'd rather not. But, it still needs to be done." Nottingham explained.

"His work hasn't fallen short, Milord. Shouldn't that be considered?" Luke asked.

"For now, it is. What's Drake assigned to today?"

"The portcullis. He will be joining Adam there in an hour or so. It's Castor's and Emory's day off." Luke replied.

"Good. Just to confirm suspicions, you'll have Beric pay attention to Drake's movements later tonight. If Gilda didn't manage to get him into her bed last night, I'm certain she's planned something for a later time. She's had her sights set on him since she met him. It was very clear when Drake and I met with her on Sunday."

"Really? Is that really necessary, Milord?"

"Yes. I'm leaving it to you to give Beric his instructions for tonight. I want to know when he leaves — if he's going somewhere, and when he returns. Is that clear enough for you, Luke?"

"Yes, Milord." Luke nodded.

"Good. We shall be heading to Fingle's shop sometime after Midday. I'm giving extra time for Mordrid, since he was likely busy cleaning up that shed last night, not to mention being busy with rotting whore disposal." Nottingham sneered.

"Very well. If I see Ancel I'll inform him. You'll likely see Mordrid before me." Luke said.

"Good. And, keep this conversation in the back of your mind should you get any ideas about Floria."

"Yes, Milord." Luke nodded. Then, he turned and left the chamber.

"Well, that was interesting, George." Nichol smirked.

"This is what I'm dealing with. I've got three men who are tangled up with possible bed partners. Although, Luke seems to be the least concerning in that regard."

"Why do you suppose that is, friend? Do you think his door swings the other way? Perhaps he fancies men?" Nichol mused.

"Ha! No, Nic. That's not the problem. The problem is twofold. The first of it is that a lady he was planning to marry died unexpectedly nearly a year and a half ago. He's still mourning her. You didn't hear that from me, by the way. He keeps that to himself. He only told me this three days ago. The other is that the young woman he's interested in is quite a bit younger than he is, and he has said it feels strange to him." the Sheriff explained.

"And, you believe him? You sure you're not being finessed, George?"

"Yes, Very sure. The lad is so achingly honest that whenever he even tries to lie it becomes quite obvious. He has never lied to me, except for not telling me he spoke to you and suspected your true identity."

"Interesting."

"What is, Nic?"

"How truthful he is."

"He is, and that is a fact about him, Nic. They don't make people like Luke anymore. He's the most honest person I've ever known. He is even more honest than my wife." he said as his eyebrow shot north, knowingly.

"Sounds like he's quite the asset to you."

"Yes. In many more ways than one." the Sheriff said. "Let's meet back here just after midday. Then, we'll be on our way."

"Very well. I'm actually… looking forward to it." Nichol said. Although, he did find it suspicious that Fingle was supplying him now. He was mostly interested to see this arrangement in action, and find out how it started.

"Good to hear, friend! Perhaps it shall inspire you to accept my offer."

"We shall see." Nichol smirked.

A short time later, the Sheriff returned to the private chambers, carrying the wooden box that Robert had given to him earlier. He set it down on a table in the den, and proceeded into the bedchamber.

Rhiannon was dressed and seated in a chair reading a large book about the history of Nottingham, while sipping some tea.

"Good morrow, beautiful wife." he smiled as he walked toward her.

"Good morning, husband." Rhiannon smiled as she let the open book rest on her lap. "Are you free for awhile now? You were absent when I awoke."

"Yes. I had a couple of people I needed to meet with. The next task is an outing, scheduled after midday."

"May I ask what's happening then?"

"This time you can. I'm taking my top men to meet with Fingle. We need some… updated bows for my three archers." he said.

"Oh, I see. I only sent for tea for myself, George. Shall I send for a tray for us?"

"I'll do that, my lady. You relax. I need to retrieve something from the den, anyway."

"Alright."

"What are you doing, anyway? Studying? I thought you were still reading the other work of fiction about… Erec and Enide." the Sheriff asked.

"I am. I've just got it on hold for awhile while I look at this. I don't know anything about this county except what I've discovered on my own since I arrived here, coming up to two years ago. I figured since I'm married to the Sheriff, I should gain some knowledge." she said.

"Of course. I was a bit surprised, but, with that explanation, now I'm not." he smirked.

He turned and went back to the den. He asked the sentry posted at the door to send for a tray, then he grabbed the wooden box and took it into the private chambers.

"I have something for you, my lady. A few things, actually." he announced.

"Oh? What's in that box, George?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's for you. You'll have to open it to find out."

She placed a bookmark in the book and closed it, placing it upon the table beside her. Next, the Sheriff gently placed the box upon her lap.

She looked up at him, curiously.

"Open it, my lady."

Rhiannon carefully opened the box, and was visibly stunned when she saw the gleaming steel carefully placed in the royal blue velvet. The gemstones inset into the hilt and the shine on the blade assaulted her eyes. She grasped it by the hilt and took it out to admire it. Then she moved the box and stood, testing the weight and feel of the dagger in her hand.

"George! It's perfect! It even has my monogram engraved into it! I love it, sugar. It's beautiful." Rhiannon smiled.

"I'm glad you're pleased, my angel. You're brother designed it and worked on it."

Rhiannon set the dagger back into the box then went to him, throwing her arms around him. She kissed his cheek and smiled.

"You're so incredibly thoughtful. Thank you, my love."

"You're welcome, Rhiannon. But, we're not done." he hinted.

"What do you mean? This is quite enough. It was your birthday yesterday, and here you are, bestowing gifts upon me."

"Oh, well." he chuckled.

He reached into the pocket of his doublet, and pulled out a small black velvet drawstring sack, and passed it to her.

"For you, my angel." he smiled.

"George! You're spoiling me, sugar." she said as she held it in her hand, wondering what could possibly be inside of it.

"You've changed my life, my lady. In ways I never conceived of, because the possibility seemed unattainable until I met you." a beat. "Open it." the Sheriff said.

Rhiannon loosened the drawstring and reached inside. She pulled out a gold necklace and bracelet. Both featured diamonds and rubies, which perfectly matched the betrothal ring he had given to her.

"Oh, George! They're beautiful! And, a perfect match to your mother's ring!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Yes, my wife. That was done intentionally. You don't have to wear them together. You can wear them whenever, and however you like. Even if you don't wish to wear either of them some days, that's perfectly fine, too." he smiled.

"I'm wearing them both today, husband. They're too beautiful not to. Thank you. I am… stunned."

"Good! Let me help you with those, my lady."

She turned her back to him and moved her hair out of way while he fastened the clasp of the necklace around her neck. Then, the Sheriff fastened the bracelet around her wrist. He still had one more gift for her, but he decided to give her the drawing that Richard had done for him later in the evening. Rhiannon stood before him, beaming.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Beautiful, as ever. You don't need adornment to improve your beauty, my lady. But, they look lovely on you."

"Thank you. For everything. I love them all. I have something for you, too; but, I'll need to retrieve it when you go into town. It's being kept for me. I didn't want you to find it." Rhiannon explained.

"It's fine, my lady. There's no rush." he smiled.

"Well, I have something else I can give to you right now." she smirked as she knelt before him. Then she reached out and unfastened his breeches.

"Rhiannon? What are you doing, my lady? Our tray shall be arriving soon."

"Live a little, George." she whispered as she began to stroke him intimately. She spent some time working him into a frenzy. He was soon hard as steel for her. Then she took him into her mouth.

"This is… gah! Good, my lady, but… there shall be a knock on our… door soon. God damn, lady, you're so… ah! Good… to me." he moaned.

"Shut up and let me please you, husband." she smirked at him while she worked him into a frenzy.

"I thought we were going to… wait until you… gah!… heal?"

"Who said you'd need to do anything?" she whispered as she interrupted her oral ministrations to him. "All you need to do is stand there. I can still heal doing this. You might want to steady yourself for the end of this, though." Rhiannon smirked, then she resumed pleasing him with her mouth.

At midday, Nottingham strolled into the Council Quarters, looking a little more chipper than normal. Nichol, Luke, and Ancel were there waiting for him.

"Where's Mordrid?" he asked.

"He's coming, Milord. As you predicted, he slept late because he was up all night cleaning the shed, after they disposed of the body." Luke said.

"Why did Mordrid need to do it, though? What about servants?" Nichol asked his friend.

"Normally, Gervase would have taken care of it. But, the reason he wasn't seen last night is because the whore got to him, too. He's recovering. As for the servants? Discretion, Nic." the Sheriff reminded him.

"Right. Of course." Nichol said.

"What about Adam, then? He was scheduled for morning duty at the portcullis. How is he to effectively perform on no sleep?" the Sheriff asked his men.

"Mordrid sent Adam away early so he could rest up for his duties, Milord." Ancel said.

"I see. That was a good call Mordrid made."

"Indeed." Ancel nodded.

"You seem to have quite a bounce in your step, friend!" Nichol smirked.

"Maybe it was the ham and eggs the kitchen sent to us to break our fast." Nottingham shrugged.

"Of course." Nichol nodded.

Just then, Mordrid stumbled into the room, moving slower than normal. His colour was pallid and he had dark circles under his eyes.

"You up for this, Mordrid? I can tell you haven't slept. It's written all over your face." the Sheriff said.

"I had a couple of hours, Milord." Mordrid shrugged.

"You look a bit… like hell, mate." Luke added.

"I would concur. Except, I'd describe it as you kind of look like you'd been run over by a carriage, Mordrid." Nichol smirked.

Luke looked downcast and sighed, suddenly recalling Emma's demise.

"I'll be fine. I'm sure I can get through a simple session with the town bow craftsman." Mordrid said.

"Indeed. And, when we get back I want you to start catching up on sleep, Mordrid. Take a nap for an hour or two." the Sheriff advised.

"I shall be happy to, Milord." Mordrid nodded.

"Kind of funny how you're ordering him to nap, George. You sure you're not under the influence of a… personality change spell? If there is such a thing?" Nichol mused.

"The man was up all night working, Nic. It's not like he is tired from self indulgent bollocks like drinking, or fucking. We will be better served when he is rested. Luckily, he doesn't need to do much except ride his horse for the meeting with Fingle." Nottingham pointed out.

"Indeed, friend. Just making an observation; and… adding a little levity to the situation." Nichol said.

"And, your observation?"

"I stated it. Indeed, I see you standing before me. You look the same. But, I'd swear your personality is completely different."

"Don't worry. The man you knew isn't dead, Nic. That guy does come out from time to time. Trust me." Nottingham said with a knowing look.

"Fair enough. Noted." Nichol said.

"I see you all brought your bows, men. That is good. Fingle may need to do some tweaking adjustments to them. Let's be on our way." he said as he gestured to the door.

The three top men left together, as the Sheriff and Nichol followed. He closed the door and the two made their way toward the front doors of the castle.

"Have one of my men bring my horse along to the portcullis, Nic. I'm going to go and have a word with Drake." Nottingham instructed.

"Don't be too harsh, mate. You don't know what he was up to last night, for certain." Nichol said.

"No. But, I can remind him of a few of the finer points." he sneered.

A short time later he was at the gate, ordering Drake and Adam to open it.

The portcullis was raised and the Sheriff stepped out to speak to them.

"Kind of a wet day for a stroll, Milord?" Adam remarked.

"I'm not going for a stroll, Adam. When have you known me to leave this property without my horse?" the Sheriff sighed.

"Oh. Right." Adam shrugged.

"Keep the gate open. Nic and the top men are coming, and they're bringing my horse."

"Very well, Milord. Does this mean you got a lead on the stumpy fellow?" Drake asked.

"No. We're going to meet with Fingle regarding updated weapons. But, I need a word with you, Drake."

"Very well."

The Sheriff nodded for Drake to follow him. They walked about ten yards away from Adam, then the Sheriff stopped and turned to face him.

"Any problems when you escorted Lady Gunilda home?" the Sheriff began in hushed tones.

"No, Milord. She arrived safely, and then… I returned." Drake said softly, while looking to the dirt path.

"So, you came directly back, did you?"

"Uh… not quite, Milord." Drake said, shaking his head.

"I see. So, what were you doing there?" he pressed.

"Lady Gunilda said she had noticed I hadn't eaten at the fete. I reminded her I was there to work. She invited me in for wine, and food. Snacks, Milord." Drake explained.

"And, you accepted."

"Not initially, but she was persistent, Milord."

"I see. And then… what?" he asked, pointedly.

"I had some wine, some snacks, then I was on my way." Drake said, conveniently omitting the part where they shared a hot, breathless kiss goodnight, and that she invited him to bed her.

"That's it. Wine, food, a little conversation, and nothing else." Nottingham sighed.

"Yes, Milord." Drake answered while shifting uncomfortably.

"Surely, it hasn't escaped your notice that she wants you, Drake."

"Milord?"

"I'm here to remind you, you're dealing with a witch, Drake. Not just any ordinary one, but a witch — possibly, a mage — who can conjure lightning bolts, a flock of doves, and one who can immobilize a person in a matter of a few seconds. Surely, that has given you pause, has it not?" Nottingham whispered. His eyebrow shot north, knowingly.

"Of course, Milord Sheriff. I'm well aware." Drake sighed, softly.

"You need to mind yourself, Drake. Keep reminding yourself what she is capable of."

"In fairness, I don't think she would harm me. She said that she won't use her magick to cause harm." Drake pointed out.

"You've known her how long now? A few days? You've seen her… what? Four or five times now?"

"I suppose." Drake shrugged.

"And, you trust her. Already? You barely know the woman, Drake!" he admonished in a whisper.

"Yes. I suppose that is true." Drake answered. But, I know what I like. He thought.

"You recall what Gunilda and I spoke about in the Council Quarters last night, don't you? She is currently being vetted for the role of espial."

"Yes, Milord. I do recall."

"And, you're aware of the rules, specifically — rule number one — about not getting romantically entangled with other members on staff — which she likely will be a part of?" Nottingham reminded him with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Indeed, Milord."

"So, are you?" he asked, pointedly.

"Milord?"

"Are you mixed up with her romantically?"

"No, Milord." Drake said. Then, he looked down to the dirt path.

"Good. Keep it that way." the Sheriff warned. Then, he went back to the portcullis where his men and his horse were waiting.

Rhiannon had her damp wedding gown draped over her arm as she left the private chambers and was heading to see her Wardrobe Mistress. She made it halfway down the corridor when Meridwyn caught up to her.

"Rhiannon? Are you going to see Madam Oberon?" Meridwyn asked.

Rhiannon turned to face her.

"Yes. I'm hoping she can somehow salvage this gown. I like the idea of what you did with yours. I'd like this preserved for the future, as well. What are you doing? Would you like to join me?"

"Yes, I'd be happy to join you. I was going to ask you and Isabelle if you'd like to go to the market? They have plenty of bargains on market days." Meridwyn smiled.

"Sir Guy wouldn't mind you going?"

"I don't think so. I never asked him, truthfully. He's in charge right now while your husband is out." Meridwyn shrugged.

"George might take issue with it. He's constantly reminding me that the escaped prisoner has a plan to kill me, so, there's that." Rhiannon sighed.

"The market is within the city walls. Why would he have a problem with that?"

"I suppose you're right. I'll consider it." Rhiannon said as she began to walk.

Meridwyn walked beside her, and soon they were knocking on Madam Oberon's door. The door opened and the seamstress greeted them with a smile.

"Bon après-midi, mes chers! What brings you here… to… " Madam Oberon caught sight of the gown draped over Rhiannon's arm. "Mon Dieu!" she gasped.

"I'll say!" Meridwyn muttered.

"Ce qui s'est passé?" Madam Oberon asked. (What happened?)

"There was an incident that occurred last night, Madame. Floria and myself were lured away by a murderous woman on my husband's wanted list. She injured me, and nearly succeeded in killing your new assistant." Rhiannon explained.

"WHAT? Oh, cher. I guess that explains why I haven't heard from Floria today. We were going to work on some of her designs. Come, ladies. Do come in, s'il vous plaît." Madam Oberon instructed as she held the door for them.

After she closed the door, she held out her hands toward Rhiannon.

"I need a closer look, mon cher. What would you like done with it? Do you want it disposed of?"

"No, Madame." Rhiannon said as she passed it to her. "If you can somehow restore this to its former state, I would be most grateful. The train was sawed off, though. I don't expect another one added, but there's a small mound of it left at the top of the shoulders. If you could remove that bit, that shall be fine." she said.

"That was a lovely feature on your gown, Rhiannon." Meridwyn pointed out.

"By the time it's worn again by either a daughter, or daughter in law, it might be quite outdated. I'm leaving that up to the future wearer of this gown." Rhiannon explained.

"So, basically, it just needs a good cleaning, mon cher? That can be accomplished easily enough." Madam Oberon smiled.

"There's blood on it, Madame. I was kicked a few times in the same spot, which caused some bleeding on the left side. My neck was nicked with a dagger, too. So, there's a tiny bit of blood spatter on the neckline."

"Mon Dieu! May I ask… how did the watteau train get cut off?"

"The woman used her dagger to cut it off. Then she cut it into strips and used those to gag Floria and I."

Madam Oberon shook her head and put her free hand to her bosom.

"Thank goodness you're both alright, mon cher! And… the woman who did this?"

"She was taken care of, Madam Oberon. The threat was eliminated quite nicely." Meridwyn chimed in.

"I see. Bon." Madam Oberon nodded. Then, she looked to Rhiannon. "How soon would you like this back, Dame Rhiannon?"

"There's obviously no rush, Madame. Although, the blood will need to be removed from it soon." Rhiannon suggested.

"Of course, mon cher." Madam Oberon nodded as she held it up to examine the blood stains. "I've a few tricks up my sleeve to take care of that. Luckily, the gown is damp, so the stains haven't set. Even though blood is organic, I should be successful in removing it because the fabric is still damp. As for the bit left of the train, I can easily repair that, too."

"Merci, Madame." Rhiannon smiled.

"Ce n'est rien, mon cher. Leave it with me. I'll have it looking good as new for you in no time."

"I appreciate it greatly, Madame." Rhiannon smiled. "We shall be on our — "

"Wait a moment. What's this about Floria's designs?" Meridwyn asked.

"She showed me some of her sketches a few days ago, mon cher. They're quite… how you say? Spectaculaire?"

"Spectacular, I take it?" Meridwyn asked.

"Oui!"

"Anything specific, Madame?" Rhiannon asked.

"They are designs of gowns and capes, mostly. But, she did something with her dressing gown I noticed when I took Marie's hairbrush to her on Monday night, that I think you would like, Dame Rhiannon." Madam Oberon hinted.

"Oh, yes. I remember you stepping out for a few moments. What was it she did to her dressing gown?" Rhiannon asked.

"She added a hood to it. It looked charmant et chaleureux. I thought of you because you often get chill, mon cher."

"What did it look like?" Meridwyn asked?

"Lovely and warm." Rhiannon replied. Then she looked to Madam Oberon. "That sounds divine. I would like that, Madame. It sounds perfect, actually."

"I should say I would quite like that, too." Meridwyn smiled.

"Bon! Perhaps, you could ask Dame Isabelle if she would like that, and we could start making them for you? We'd just need to know your preferences for colour and fabric."

"We will be seeing her soon. That would be great, Madame." Rhiannon smiled.

"Bon! I already have all of your measurements. Just let me know the specifications and whether Dame Isabelle would like one, as well." Madam Oberon smiled.

"Merci, Madame. We will do that." Rhiannon nodded.

A short time later they knocked on the door of Robert and Isabelle's quarters. Rhiannon was surprised when Robert greeted her.

"Shouldn't you be assisting Sir Guy right now, Brother?"

"I'm going into town to meet with someone, by order of your husband. The Captain is assisting until I return." Robert explained.

"I see. I'm going to need George's gift. Perhaps you could take it to our quarters when you return?" Rhiannon suggested.

"Of course. I'll take care of it."

"Good. You going to let us in? We'd like to see Isabelle."

"Right now?"

"No. We're just here to tease we will see her later. Of course, we want to see her now!" Meridwyn chuckled.

"I'm not sure if she's ready for company." Robert sighed.

"Oh! I get it. So, that's why you're still in here." Rhiannon smirked.

"Excuse me?" Robert asked.

"Having a nice romantic day, Brother?" she teased.

"What? You've got the wrong idea."

"For God's sake, Robert! You're such a prude. Surely, she's dressed by now, isn't she?" Rhiannon sighed as she walked past him.

Meridwyn followed behind her, as Robert sighed while he closed the door.

"Come right in." Robert muttered.

"Where is she? Surely, she's not sleeping? It's after midday!" Rhiannon asked.

"She's in the bedchamber. Not asleep." Robert sighed.

"Perhaps we shouldn't interrupt her afterglow, Rhi?" Meridwyn giggled.

"Her… what? You two have the wrong idea." Robert sighed, shaking his head.

"Good! Then you won't mind if I knock on those bedchamber doors! Excuse me, Brother." Rhiannon smirked.

She walked ahead toward the doors of the bedchamber.

"Sis? I don't know if she's able for company just — "

Rhiannon ignored him and knocked anyway, as Meridwyn stood beside her.

"Come in, husband." came the weak reply from inside the bedchamber.

Rhiannon and Meridwyn looked at one another curiously, then Rhiannon opened the door. The two ladies stepped inside.

Isabelle was reclined on the bed with a damp cloth placed over her forehead and covering her eyes. Her colour was pallid.

"We're not Robert." Rhiannon said softly, as she and Meridwyn approached the bed.

Isabelle lifted the cloth from her forehead.

"Oh! Forgive me. I didn't realize you ladies were here." Isabelle said as she sat up.

Within moments the room began to spin on her. She put her palm to her forehead, closing her eyes, and fell back against the pillows.

"Curses!" Isabelle muttered.

"Dearest, don't try to get up." Robert said as he swiftly walked toward the bed.

"Oh, my God! Isabelle! Are you alright?" Rhiannon asked as she sat beside Isabelle on the bed.

"What on earth is going on?" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"It's nothing, ladies. Just feeling a trifle under the weather today, is all." Isabelle said, dismissively.

"You're as white as the driven snow!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

Rhiannon put her palm to Isabelle's forehead.

"I don't think she has a fever?" Rhiannon shrugged.

"She just had a cool damp cloth placed there, Rhi. Touch her neck. That will give you a better idea." Meridwyn suggested.

"Honestly, there's no need for either of you to fuss — " Isabelle was interrupted by the touch of Rhiannon's hand on her neck.

"Isn't that odd? Your temperature feels normal." Rhiannon said.

"It can't be, Rhiannon. She looks terrible!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"She's just having an off day, ladies." Robert said.

"Bollocks, Robert! Why are you minimizing this? This is your wife! Look at her! She looks poorly, for God's sake!" Rhiannon admonished him.

"We should send for Thomas, Rhi. You're right. This isn't normal. She looks like hell." a beat. "Forgive me, Isabelle." Meridwyn said.

Isabelle nodded, and smiled, ruefully.

"There's no need for that." Robert said.

Rhiannon stood from the bed and walked over to her brother. She stood directly in front of him with her hands on her hips, scowling at him.

"I could just about slap you right now! It's taking all of my restraint not to. What the hell is wrong with you? Look. At. Her. She is clearly quite ill. We have a medicus on hand who can see to her!" Rhiannon exclaimed, pointing to Isabelle.

"Sister, there's no need for you to get in a state over — " Isabelle began to whisper, but was interrupted.

Meridwyn looked at Isabelle with her blue eyes narrowed, curiously.

"What? Have you two got something against healers, or something?" Rhiannon asked, incredulously.

"He was already here." Robert said, simply.

"Really? Then, why does she look like death warmed over?" Rhiannon demanded.

"It is nothing, Rhiannon. It shall pass in a day or two." Isabelle murmured, hoping that would be the case.

"So, he came, and now he's gone? He should still be here. This is lunacy! That's not like him to leave his charge in a state like this!" Rhiannon huffed.

"He said it should pass in a few days." Robert lied.

"And, you're going to leave her — while she's like this?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's unavoidable. I won't be gone long." Robert explained.

Rhiannon shook her head and glared at him.

"Did my husband really ask you to meet with someone in town?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course, he did! You think I'd leave her if I didn't have to?" Robert asked.

"Well, you're certainly acting funny!"

"It's a quick trip into town. It's not far, and I expect the meeting to be brief." Robert explained.

"Can't it wait?"

"George wants it done. I'm to report to him when he returns."

"Whom are you meeting?" Rhiannon asked, pointedly.

"What?"

"Whom are you meeting with, Brother?"

"All I can tell you is I'm meeting with a Barrister. And, I'm only telling you because I don't think he'd mind, given these rather odd circumstances." Robert sighed.

"I'll say, Robert." Isabelle muttered, as she placed the dampened cloth back upon her forehead.

"Why are you not angry with him?" Rhiannon asked.

"I've no need to be angry with him, dearest. He's been at my side all day so far. I'm only under the weather. I'm not dying." Isabelle sighed.

"Something's going on here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it." Rhiannon said, firmly.

"No. There's no need to, Sister. Everything is fine. Truly." Isabelle said in an attempt to assuage her.

"What? You can't be serious, Isabelle? You're not thinking straight. You're not well!" Rhiannon argued.

"I will be feeling more fit after a wee rest, Sister. It will be just fine. Robert will check on me when he returns."

Rhiannon narrowed her eyes as she regarded the both of them.

"Everyone has off days, Sis. Perhaps we should let her rest now." Robert said.

"But — "

"Yes, Robert. I'm feeling a bit tired." Isabelle said, softly.

"You sure, honey?" Meridwyn asked.

"Yes, Meridwyn. I think I just need a wee nap while Robert completes his errand. It's fine, honestly." Isabelle nodded.

Rhiannon went over to the bed and leaned into Isabelle, grasping her hand, purposely blocking Robert's view of his wife.

"Isabelle?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes?"

"Look at me." she said.

Isabelle obeyed and looked into her eyes.

"Blink twice if he's hurt you." Rhiannon said, firmly.

"WHAT? Rhiannon!" Robert admonished. Then he hung his head, with his palm to his forehead. He shook his head and exhaled a deep sigh.

"You must be joking, Rhiannon." Isabelle frowned.

"No. I'm not. You're being quite nonchalant about this, and far too agreeable with him."

"Do you even know your brother? He is kind and gentle. Always. I'm just feeling tired right now, and a little dizzy. Once I rest, it will be better. I'm sure of it." Isabelle said.

"You're sure?" Rhiannon asked, with a curious quirk of her brow.

"Absolutely, Sister. I appreciate your concern, but you mustn't worry yourself." Isabelle smiled.

"If you're feeling dizzy, perhaps you should have some food? Maybe something light?" Meridwyn suggested.

"No. Not right now. I will after I awaken." Isabelle said, while trying to control the urge to gag.

"Very well. We'll leave you for now, but, only because you're insistent on it, Isabelle. I couldn't give a flying fig what he thinks of it right now." Rhiannon huffed, as she nodded behind her toward Robert. "But, I'm coming back to check on you later. And, if you're still like this, I'm summoning Thomas." she insisted.

"I'm sure I'll be better then." Isabelle sighed.

"Rest, dearest. You obviously need it." Rhiannon said, softly. She leaned down and kissed Isabelle's cheek. Then, she grabbed the folded blanket at the foot of the bed and carefully arranged it, covering Isabelle.

"Thank you." Isabelle said, softly.

They left Isabelle to rest, and Rhiannon confronted her brother again while they stood near the door in the den.

"Can't someone else do this errand for you, Robert? I don't think you should leave her." Rhiannon said, softly.

"There's no one else. I will be back in no time." Robert said.

"I don't understand? How is it that neither of you are concerned in the slightest about the state she is in?" Rhiannon pressed.

"Because Thomas has seen to her. It's some sort of bug, Rhiannon. I told you what he said. It should pass in a day or two."

"She can't even sit up without getting dizzy, Robert! That should concern us all!" she admonished in a whisper.

"It does concern me; but, she is tired and wants to rest. While she sleeps, I shall take care of this meeting that your husband is sending me to. Then I'll return and check on her." Robert whispered.

"I'm worried about her, Robert."

"Yes. I can see that, Sister. We appreciate your concern. And, don't think for a second that I don't dearly love my wife. Also, don't ever again let me hear you infer that I would deign to even think of harming her! When have you ever known me to be like that?" Robert admonished her in hushed tones.

"Never. But, you know what they say. War can change people, Robert. You were there in the Holy Land, fighting against Saracens. I'm sure you had to kill a few of them, and that the whore last night wasn't your first kill." Rhiannon whispered, folding her arms.

"Rhi? You're getting quite hot under the collar, honey. Try to calm — " Meridwyn started to warn her, but was interrupted.

"Of course, I did. It was war! You know? Kill, or be killed? And, last night, she was about to slash your throat! I doubt you could've been saved if that happened. And, you need to mind your language. You're getting yourself worked up into a state over noth — "

"Nothing? Really? This is a bunch of bollocks, Robert, and you know it! Fine. I'll speak to Thomas myself." Rhiannon huffed.

"He's only going to tell you the same thing he told us." Robert sighed.

"Whatever. The least I can do is demand an answer about why the hell he would leave her looking like that!"

"Language, Rhiannon." Robert scorned.

"Honestly, you're impossible sometimes! Fine. We'll go; but, don't think I won't be back later!" Rhiannon huffed.

"Thanks for stopping by." Robert said flatly, as he held the door for them.

"I will return, Robert." she warned.

Then the ladies stepped out as Robert closed the door.

"Rhiannon? Why did you ask Isabelle if Robert had harmed her? You know he wouldn't do that." Meridwyn whispered as they walked together in the corridor.

"Do I?"

"Of course! Did he ever harm you?"

"No. They teased me relentlessly, but I wasn't harmed."

"Then, why would you ask her that?" Meridwyn pressed.

"Because something funny is going on, Meridwyn. They are both hiding something." Rhiannon frowned.

"That may be, but that was a little harsh, Rhi. They seem quite happy together to me."

"If I find out he's beating her I'll kick his backside into next week!" Rhiannon huffed.

"Remember last night in the shed, just before the consort… kicked at the bucket Floria stood upon?" Meridwyn asked with a shudder.

"What a silly question, Meridwyn. Of course, I remember! How could I forget? What does that have to do with — "

"Your brother shouted at her to let you both go, and called her an insufferable whore."

"Yes, I vaguely recall that. Truthfully, I was more focused on George, and Luke. I still don't understand what that has to do with — "

"Isabelle and I were standing by the door. She made a comment about that."

"Okay?" Rhiannon shrugged.

"She said to me that she'd never heard Robert speak like that before. Then, she added that he never gets angry. Those were her exact words. Does that sound like a man who would beat his wife to you, Rhi? It sure as hell doesn't to me." Meridwyn said.

"Unless… she was trying to cover for him?" Rhiannon shrugged.

"You know… there's one other simple explanation for the current state she is in." Meridwyn hinted.

"A heart problem?" Rhiannon said, stopping in her tracks. Her aqua green eyes widened, and her jaw fell agape. "Oh, my God! She could really be quite ill!"

"No, silly! You know your brother wouldn't leave on an errand if that were the case, and certainly not Thomas." Meridwyn pointed out.

"Then, what other explanation is there?"

"Remember how you felt some days when you were carrying Sela?"

"You think she might be with child?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's certainly a possibility." Meridwyn smiled.

"Then… why on earth would they let me go on like that? Why wouldn't either of them just say it?"

"Because of past disappointments, Rhiannon. I don't know much of the story there, all I know is that Isabelle has mentioned that she's tried and failed to give your brother a child. Maybe they don't want to say anything right now, because maybe… they're expecting the worst to happen, as it has in the past for them." Meridwyn explained.

"Well, that would certainly explain their very odd behaviour. I don't know why it didn't occur to me?" Rhiannon mused.

"I know why it didn't, Rhi."

"Why? Tell me, Meridwyn. I'm feeling like a proper fool for accusing my brother of hurting her, especially if that is not the case."

"It's simple, honey. Isabelle has convinced us all that she's incapable of producing a child. I don't think she did that intentionally. I honestly think this is what she believes to be true. Heaven only knows what they've endured in the past to hide something that would be very joyous news, especially for them." Meridwyn explained.

"Oh, my God. So, you think she could be with child, but — she's convinced herself she will lose the child?" Rhiannon asked, incredulously.

"That would explain why she doesn't wish to be fussed over, and why your brother was downplaying it, too. I would wager she begged him not to tell anyone. It sounds like something she would do." Meridwyn pointed out.

"What should I do, Meridwyn?"

"Keep your eyes open, pay attention, and listen to them. That's really all you can do."

"If she is with child, and she loses the child, do you think they plan to say nothing about it?" Rhiannon asked.

"It's quite possible."

"But, why? They have family and close friends around them now."

"Maybe that's their way of coping with it? Maybe they think you've endured a few things, and they don't want to burden you. Maybe they don't wish to… remind you of Sela."

"You think that could be part of it?"

"If I was expecting to lose my child, it might be something I'd consider, too." Meridwyn admitted.

"I may have endured a lot of things, Meridwyn, but who hasn't? That's why I'm strong. Why would they want to mollycoddle me?" Rhiannon asked.

"Maybe it's Isabelle's way of protecting herself. Maybe she thinks she will have enough grief to bear, and doesn't think she can handle the grief of others if worse comes to worst." Meridwyn opined.

"Surely, they'd want to share this if that were the case?"

"Like I said, I don't know details of other pregnancies if there were any at all, but if they've lost babies in the past, I understand." Meridwyn said.

"I see. So, just… pay close attention."

"Until they say something to you, it's all you can do." a beat. "Now, are you going to tell me how that gorgeous necklace and bracelet you're wearing came about?" Meridwyn smirked.

"They're one of my wedding gifts from George. I say one, because they were presented together." Rhiannon smiled as they resumed walking.

"A perfect match to your betrothal ring, Rhiannon! Beautiful! He does have some taste, I'll give him that. So, you implied there was another gift?"

"Yes, there was. A beautiful dagger that features my monogram and lovely gemstones inset on the hilt."

"A dagger?"

"Yes. When he asked what I would like for a wedding gift, I told him I wanted a dagger. So, a perfect one was forged for me. Robert designed it and forged it."

"I'm sure it's… lovely. Leave it to you to ask for a weapon for a wedding gift, Rhi." Meridwyn giggled.

"A lady can never be too prepared, Meridwyn." Rhiannon smiled.

The Sheriff and his men arrived at Samson Fingle's home. His shop was inside a large wooden shed, almost the size of a barn, to the right side and at the back of the property.

The men secured their horses to trees along the path toward the shop. They noticed the door was open and headed towards it.

The Sheriff led the men, and called out to Samson as soon as they stepped inside.

Samson came from the back of the shop and walked toward him.

"Good morrow, Milord. Ah! Nice! I see your archers brought their longbows along. Perfect. I may need to do some adjusting." the tall man with the wavy brown hair and green eyes smiled on his approach.

"Good day, Samson. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us." the Sheriff said.

"Of course, Milord." Samson nodded.

"I would hope you wouldn't need to make any adjustments to my bow, Samson; since you only recently crafted this for me." Mordrid pointed out.

"We shall see when I take you men out back." Samson said.

"Out back?" Luke asked.

"Of course. I've a target set up out there, fastened to a tree — naturally." he smiled. Then he looked to Mordrid. "Don't you recall testing your new bow on it when you received it?"

"Of course, Samson; but, that was only a few weeks ago." Mordrid reminded him.

"Still need to know if it's up to standards, Mordrid." Samson said.

Then, Samson looked to Nichol.

"So, I see the rumours are true. Welcome back."

"Right. I'm finding it rather odd that a man who exclusively supplied Locksley and his rabble with bows only three years ago — is now agreeable to supplying the Sheriff and his Black Knights. What's the catch here, Fingle?" Nichol asked pointedly, with a suspicious quirk of his brow.

"There is no catch. We've… come a long way since then." Samson said.

"He's also a member of the Town Council." Nottingham casually added.

"What? You can't be serious? How do you know he's not supplying other outlaws? What if he's mixed up with that group of low lives who've formed a rebellion?" Nichol asked. His green eyes narrowed, astonished he needed to point that fact out to his mate — whom trusted no one three years ago.

"He doesn't, Nic. He knows which side his bread is buttered on." the Sheriff said.

"Since when? When did he start supplying you?"

"It was almost two years ago, Burgess. I don't know where you've been, but, you've obviously missed a lot. All of that is just water under the bridge now." Samson said with a nod.

Nichol sighed as he regarded him curiously for a moment, then he looked to his friend.

"You sure about this, mate? You trust him?" Nichol whispered.

"Yes, Nic. A lot has changed since then." Nottingham said, softly.

"Right. Very well. I guess I'm just a bit… shocked." Nichol muttered.

"Now that thats out of the way, what is it you require, Milord?" Samson asked.

"Specifically, we're looking for crossbows. But, I'm sure you might want to test each of the archers' bows that they have to ensure they're still effective?" the Sheriff suggested.

"Indeed, Milord. That would be prudent."

"Do you have any crossbows already assembled?" he asked.

"I have one on hand. A couple of new ones would take a sennight." Samson said.

"Could you make that three more? I kind of miss my crossbow." Nichol asked.

"Certainly. As long as you're good with our little arrangement." Samson nodded.

"Yes. If he is fine with it, then I am, too." Nichol said, nodding to his friend. "I was just a bit… stunned by this turn of events."

"Of course. I imagine there's many changes to get used to now." Samson said.

"Indeed. You have no idea." Nichol muttered.

"How is it you only have one crossbow on hand? Oh. I'm Ancel, by the way. The Sheriff's newest recruit." Ancel said.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ancel. I don't get many requests for crossbows, except from young lads. I think most archers find them — "

"Tedious to load? You got that right!" Mordrid scoffed.

"Indeed. However, some find it gives them better control and precision with their aim." Samson explained.

"That was my experience." Nichol added.

"And, you can't fire as many arrows in a minute. I can fire twelve a minute with my longbow." Mordrid explained.

"That's better than me. I can only fire ten in a minute." Luke shrugged.

"Yes, that's a bit of a drawback with crossbows, if you'll pardon the pun. A skilled crossbowman could release three shots per minute, maybe one or two more if they're highly skilled. But, the crossbow also gives a longer range, and it's perfect for battle. You can make it rain bolts with four pointed quarrels much easier and using less physicality than with a longbow, depending on how many crossbowman are firing." Samson said.

"Agreed. It's perfect for defence." Nichol said.

"What do you mean by bolts and quarrels?" Ancel asked, curiously.

"The bolt is the name given to the projectile, which resembles an arrow, but it's much shorter in length, and heavier. The quarrels resemble an arrowhead, but have a different shape for better penetration. Typically, they're four sided points. The newest model that I'm currently working on gives five thousand pounds of force, but the range isn't as far as a typical lighter weight crossbow." Samson explained, confidently and casually — as though he were speaking of the weather.

"This is fascinating, Milord. It's like being tutored!" Luke smiled.

"Indeed, Luke. It seems Samson is quite knowledgeable about these weapons." Nottingham agreed.

"Any good bow craftsman worth their weight would also know this. They can't be crafted properly without knowing." Samson said, modestly.

"Indeed. And, this is why I'm glad to give you my business, Fingle." the Sheriff said.

Samson nodded then looked to Nichol.

"So, will you be the one chiefly training the men to use them? Since, you're experienced with them?" Samson asked.

"Uh… " Nichol parried.

"Am I missing something?" Samson asked as he looked to both Nichol and the Sheriff.

"That is the plan, if he accepts." Nottingham said.

"As you can see, I'm not quite as fit as I once was." Nichol sighed, nodding to his left leg and the walking stick.

"If I recall, you were quite good with that crossbow, Burgess. You alone put a number of kinks in Robin's attack plans." Samson pointed out.

"This has got to be the most surreal experience I've had since I damn near died. Even stranger than finding out you were set to be married only two days after I returned to you, mate." Nichol muttered to the Sheriff, shaking his head.

"I'm sure, Nic. He's the best bow craftsman in the county from my calculations, and conveniently nearby. It might be new to you, but it's not new to us." Nottingham said.

Nichol sighed, then looked to Fingle. "Right. I suppose. I never thought of that, perhaps because I was too busy at the time."

"Understood. Well, the good news is, using the crossbow doesn't require much in the way of training. It's nothing like the training required to use longbows." Samson explained.

"Explain that, Samson. They look more finicky to me than a longbow. So, how would a weapon like that not require as much training?" Nottingham asked, curiously.

"They're easier to use. A bit cumbersome to carry, but they don't require the same amount of strength. There's a locking mechanism that maintains the draw. All the user has to do is aim, and activate the trigger." Samson nodded.

"Is that so? I've never used one, personally." the Sheriff said, surprised by Samson's reply.

"You'll see during the demonstration, Milord." Samson smiled.

"Demonstration?"

"Of course. You want to know what you're getting, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Good. Come, men. I'll show you the crossbow I have ready." Samson said as he gestured for them to follow him.

As he led the men toward the back of the shop, Luke noticed there were many longbows in various stages of assembly scattered upon several tables that lined the shop.

"My! I didn't realize there was so much that went into making longbows?" Luke remarked.

"Yes. It requires very specific wood, and the use of horns to hold the string. Getting the tension right, and the right wood to absorb pressure makes all the difference." Samson said.

"What do you use, specifically?" Ancel asked.

"The longbows are made from yew. That works the best. The sapwood below the bark absorbs tension. In the centre of that is heartwood, and that effectively absorbs pressure. The horn on the ends of the bow which hold the string are there to prevent the wood from tearing." Samson explained.

"I didn't realize so much thought was needed to produce them?" Nottingham said.

"You can't just make them out of any old wood, Milord. Indeed, if you want the longbows to work well, and not break apart, a good bow craftsman would know this and use the same wood that I do. They may use different techniques to get the same result, but the variety of wood used is standard." Samson said.

"I see. Interesting." Nottingham said. He looked to Nichol. "Now, you see why we come here for longbows? We've never had a problem with any longbow we've obtained from him."

"Yes. I'm starting to understand your arrangement… sort of. Even though it's starting to feel like I'm in a bizarre dream I can't wake from. You know what I mean? Those ones that feel real, vivid, but even in the dream you know you're only dreaming. And, you can actually change things in them, and wake yourself if you need to? I've been trying, but I can't wake from this one." Nichol said, shaking his head.

Nottingham stared at him, his amber hazel eyes narrowed as he slowly shook his head.

The top men exchanged curious glances with one another over Nichol's monologue.

Samson was glad to see he wasn't the only one who thought Nichol's verbose rambling was a bit odd, given the reactions from the rest of the men gathered.

"Nic? Are you… alright?" Nottingham finally asked.

"Aye. Just a rather odd experience for me, mate. Nothing to — "

"How much did you drink last night?" he asked, pointedly.

"I wasn't drunk, if that's what you're implying."

"You sure? Because that was the strangest oration I've ever heard. I'm not sure what was more odd — what you said, or that it was you who said it." Nottingham frowned, shaking his head.

"I'm very sure. I had two and half goblets of wine all tolled last night."

"Good. Then, do try and rejoin us back in reality, Nic. You're not dreaming."

"That's true. In my dreams my leg is normal." Nichol muttered.

"Indeed" Nottingham sighed.

He nodded to Samson to continue.

Samson walked a few paces and picked up an assembled crossbow that was sitting on one of the many tables.

"This is the basic light weight model. This will give you a range of three hundred and fifty, to three hundred and ninety four yards." Samson said as he held it out to show them, then passed it around.

"How is this different than the newer model you said you were working on?" the Sheriff asked.

"The new model is called an arbalest. It doesn't offer the same range, but the force is ultimately deadly. The range on the arbalest is only one hundred and nine yards." Samson said.

"Any other differences between the arbalest and this one?" Ancel asked.

"It's a bit heavier. It features a steel prod to give greater force. The arbalest model would yield two shots per minute." Samson explained.

"I see." Ancel nodded as he held the crossbow in his hands, then he passed it to Nichol.

"Bah! Only two shots in a minute, and it's heavier? Doesn't sound that great to me. Why would anyone choose the arbalest model, then?" Mordrid scoffed.

"You want people dead? Even if they're protected with plate armour, the bolts will go through it like butter." Samson said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Interesting." Nottingham mused.

"Indeed, friend." Nichol agreed.

"You mentioned something about a steel prod on the arbalest model. What do you mean by prod?" Ancel asked, curiously.

"Right. You see how it looks like there's a short bow attached to the mainframe?" Samson pointed to the model in Nichol's hand.

"Yes." Ancel nodded.

"That is the prod." Samson said.

"I see. Quite a bit different than a longbow." Ancel added.

"Yes. Very different." Samson nodded.

"I've a question. By the way, I'm Luke. Another of Milord's new recruits." Luke smiled.

"Nice to formally meet you, Luke. What is your question?"

"You said this model of crossbow that Nichol is holding could give a range of three hundred and fifty, to three hundred and ninety four yards. Correct?"

"That is correct. But, I should have mentioned that range can be achieved if the crossbow is angled up around forty five degrees. The point blank range is actually seventy yards." Samson nodded.

"That's disappointing." Nottingham muttered.

"They're always best when they're pointed up a little, mate. Rather than dead on." Nichol explained in a whisper.

"Then why not stick with a longbow? For instance, I heard that Robin Hood could fire an arrow from his longbow a distance of three hundred yards. Would that be about right, Samson?" Luke asked.

"Very good question, mate. Especially when we could fire four times the number of arrows per minute than with a crossbow." Mordrid nodded.

"I personally believe that figure was exaggerated with the stories told about him, Luke." Samson said.

"Ha, ha! I'll say!" Nichol scoffed.

"Indeed, mate." Nottingham muttered.

"How so?" Luke pressed, his blue green eyes narrowed, curiously.

"A typical skilled archer could reach a range of about two hundred and two yards. Robin was good, but, three hundred yards? I highly doubt that, to be frank." Samson said. "I don't know who came up with that figure, but it can't be accurate."

"I see." Luke nodded.

Luke found it fascinating that he finally met someone in town who knew Robin of Locksley quite well. He must have if he supplied bows to he and his men. He wondered about meeting with Samson at a later time, to find out a bit more about the myth that was Robin Hood.

"Great. So they offer a good range, using little training, skill, or force. But… if a skilled crossbowman can only fire three arrows… er, bolts per minute, and they're heavier to carry, what is the benefit?" Mordrid asked.

"Ease of use, and the force given. The force, along with the four sided quarrels on the bolts, can penetrate plate armour easier than arrows fired with a longbow." Samson said.

"Milord? Do we really need crossbows? It sounds like these are more meant for battle, than what we use our weapons for." Ancel asked.

"Aye. And, how often are we going to need them to penetrate plate armour? They sound like they're meant for a full on invasion." Mordrid added.

"Men, we were ill prepared for the incursion that happened three years ago. You were there, Mordrid. You should know this." Nottingham said.

"Yes. That is true, but that was then." Mordrid said.

"And now, there's some organized group of men who have formed a rebellion for Jesus, or some such rubbish. We don't know what they're planning. Our best defence is preparedness with adequate weapons, weapons training and skills." he pointed out.

"Sounds fair to me. A few more crossbows might have saved the day in ninety four." Nichol added.

"I don't personally give a flying fig whether or not you think we need them, Mordrid. We're getting crossbows." Nottingham said, firmly.

"Very well, Milord." Mordrid nodded.

The Sheriff looked to Fingle.

"Earlier, you mentioned you seldom get requests for crossbows, except from young lads. Why would young lads want them?" he asked.

"They are easier for them to use. It's a way for them to take shortcuts in the lengthy training needed to use a longbow. I won't issue crossbows to them. They might be easier to use, but crossbows can more easily take people out. You'd have a hell of a mess on your hands if a bunch of young lads got hold of these, Milord. In fact, when it comes to crossbows, I prefer to only issue them exclusively to you and your men. The last thing you need is too many people running around with that weapon." Samson explained.

"I appreciate that, Samson." Nottingham said.

"This is a fine model, Fingle. It reminds me of the one I used to use back in the day." Nichol said as he passed the crossbow to Mordrid.

"Do you think you'd like this variety, or an arbalest?" Samson asked him.

"I don't need the advanced variety. I'd rather fire my usual four bolts per minute than only two. Didn't you say a crossbowman could only get two shots per minute with the arbalest?" Nichol asked.

"Indeed. I think that is the part about it that a crossbowman would object to. That and the fact it's a heavier model." Samson nodded.

"Do you need to be as specific with the variety of wood used to make these, like you do with longbows, Samson?" Ancel asked.

"The mainframe, or stock, can be made from one of four varieties of wood: yew, ash, elm, or hazel." Samson said.

"Does that mean they're easier for you to craft, Samson?" Nottingham asked.

"Indeed. Believe it or not, they're easier to make." Samson replied. Then he looked around to all of them. "Now that you've seen this model, shall we begin the demonstration and test it? Now would be a good time to test your longbows, too."

"I'd like to see it in action." Luke nodded.

Ancel and Mordrid nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Samson. We're ready." Nottingham said.

"Good. Follow me. There's a door at the back we can exit." Samson said as he gestured for them to follow him.

Robert arrived to the office of the Barrister at this time, right in the heart of Nottingham Village. A man was outside the manor which had been converted to an office. The man offered to secure his horse for him, explaining it was part of the service offered at Verdun's place of business. Robert was a bit surprised, but he dismounted and handed the man the reins, thanking him for his kindness.

He walked the cobblestone path to the door and opened it, and was greeted by a balding dark haired, slightly heavy set man seated at a desk.

The man stood when Robert stepped inside.

"Good day. Do you have an appointment?" the man asked.

"Good morrow. Not for a specific time, but I was told this would be the best day to come. Are you Ulric? Mister Verdun's assistant?" Robert asked.

"Indeed."

"You met with Percival two days ago, the Sheriff's Scribe. Percival conveyed to me that today would be the best day to meet with Mister Verdun, after his brief meeting with you." Robert explained.

"Ah, yes. I do recall speaking to him. Very good. Whom might you be, Sir?"

"I am Robert Wordsworth, the Sheriff's Advisor."

"Very good. Do take a seat, and I'll inform Mister Verdun that you're here. Would you care for a cup of tea?" Ulric asked.

"No, thank you. That's kind of you to offer, but I'm sure this won't take long." Robert nodded as he seated himself in one of the chairs.

"Very well." Ulric nodded, then he walked away, down a darkened hall, fading out of Robert's view.

A short time afterward, the assistant returned. He stood a few feet away from Robert.

"Mister Verdun will see you now."

"Very good." Robert nodded as he arose from his chair.

Ulric directed him to walk down the hall, and go to the first room on the right.

Robert knocked on the door, and the Barrister called out for him to enter.

Robert stepped into the office and found the Barrister, a tall looking slender man with greying reddish hair, and brown eyes, seated at his fine mahogany desk. The man looked up and stood.

"Good morrow. I understand the Sheriff sent you. I'm Ranulf Verdun — about the only decent Barrister in this town, in my humble opinion." Verdun said.

"That's good to know. I'm Robert Wordsworth, the Sheriff's Advisor."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." the Barrister nodded. He sat in his chair and gestured for Robert to take a seat in the chair opposite to him.

Robert seated himself and looked to the Barrister.

"What is it I can do for you, Robert?"

"The Sheriff is keen to find out the legitimacy of a recent inheritance of property and goods bequeathed to a newcomer in town." Robert said.

"I see. Do you know the name of the decedent?"

"Decedent?"

"The name of the deceased person who bequeathed their estate."

"I believe Milord Sheriff said his name was Gamel Hayward."

"Ah, yes! I helped him with his last testament." Verdun said.

"So, you're fully aware whom he named as heir to inherit his estate?" Robert asked.

"Indeed. Gunilda Hayward, his niece. I sent her a missive around early October informing her of this. Her uncle had just passed at that time." the Barrister explained.

"I see. Where was she living then?" Robert asked.

"In Castleton, in the County of Derbyshire. I'm only telling you this because of who sent you, by the way. This is generally privileged information." Verdun pointed out.

"Of course. Understood. The thing is, there is a woman using that name who has taken over Hayward's home. She says she is Gunilda Hayward, but the Sheriff wants to make sure she's not, in fact, posing as the heir like a common mummer. You understand?" Robert said with his eyebrow quirked knowingly, over his blue green eyes.

"Yes, but, only because it's his business to know these things." Verdun remarked.

"Indeed." Robert said. "I'm sure you've met Lady Hayward, Mister Verdun?"

"Indeed."

"Did you only meet her because of the death of Gamel Hayward? Or, had you met her before then?"

"I met her before he passed. Gamel introduced us a year ago." Verdun replied.

"Could you describe her to me?"

"Yes. She's slender, sort of medium height. She has dark hair, and light brown eyes. Quite comely, and quick witted. Why?" Verdun asked, curiously.

"Because, he needs to know for certain that the woman claiming to be Gunilda Hayward, and the lady you know by that name are one in the same."

"Understood." Verdun nodded.

"When was the last time you saw Lady Hayward?" Robert asked.

"It was Monday evening of last week I visited her at Gamel's former home. I suppose you'd call it a cottage. I gave her a copy of Gamel's last testament. I have the original document here. Just give me a moment and I'll pull that one from my documents for you." Verdun said.

"Thank you. That would be grand." Robert nodded.

The Barrister stood and walked over to a tall mahogany cabinet placed against a wall to the left of the desk. He opened it and took a few moments to locate it, as there was a mass of documents kept inside, Robert noticed. He found it on the third shelf from the top, grabbed the document, closing the beautifully crafted cabinet, and returned to his chair at the desk.

"Here we are. The Last Testament of Gamel Hayward." Verdun began as he began to glance over it. "His niece, Gunilda Hayward, he has named as his heir. Let me read the basics to you."

"Very well." Robert nodded.

"Ah! Here it is. 'By right of kinship, and as my sole surviving heir, I bequeath my home, my property, all moveable goods, my horse, and the totality of what is contained in my coffers to one, Gunilda Hayward, my niece, of the town of Castleton in the County of Derbyshire. These are my express wishes and my last testament.' There's other notations here, but those are the pertinent points of it, Robert." Verdun said as he passed the document to him for his perusal.

Robert nodded and found the notation that Verdun had read to him.

"I see. So, from your standpoint, the woman you met a year ago with Gamel Hayward, is the same woman you met with at Gamel's former home last Monday eve?"

"That is correct. Unless the woman has an identical twin no one knew of, or a damn good doppelgänger, the woman I gave the copy of this to is Lady Gunilda Hayward." Verdun confidently stated.

"So, her claim on Gamel Hayward's estate is indeed legitimate in your professional opinion?"

"Yes. That is correct." the Barrister nodded. "I hope this has been helpful to you." he said.

"Indeed. I'm sure this will set Milord's mind at ease, Mister Verdun. I thank you for your time and assistance in this matter." Robert said as he stood from his chair.

"Of course. If there's anything I can ever do for you, Robert, you know where to find me." Verdun said as he stood and shook Robert's hand.

"Indeed. I'll definitely keep that in mind." Robert smiled.

Mortianna was seated at a table in her apothecary studying a message written upon a small scroll she'd just received, by the light of candles. She was surprised by whom it came from. She started from the beginning, to read it once more…

"Mortianna;

I need to see you in my chambers. I'd come to you, but I cannot risk detection. For this reason, I advise no one must see you coming here, except the sentry I sent to summon you.

If you are the one who is the creator of batwing tea around here, I'm requesting you kindly bring some with you.

I beseech you, come soon, as my husband is away for a short time.

-- Lady Isabelle."

Mortianna stuffed the scroll in the pocket of her black wool skirt. She went to the small cauldron where the batwing tea was brewing, and ladled a generous amount into a small pot and covered it. Next, she put on a cape, picked up the pot, and headed to the alternate passageway that bypassed the Sheriff's chambers.

Within a short time, she stood at the door of the Wordsworth's chambers, with the hood of her cape pulled over her head to conceal her identity, waiting for an answer to her knock.

Within moments, a very pale Lady Isabelle greeted her.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mortianna. Do come in." Isabelle said as she ushered the crone inside.

"I must say, I've seen ye appear more hale than this. I've the batwing tea ye requested, right here." Mortianna said as she nodded to the pot she held in her hands.

"Thank you. I'll grab a cup. Set it down on any of the tables." Isabelle directed her.

"I thought it easier to bring this small pot. Less chance of spilling, and I can carry a greater quantity." Mortianna said as she set the pot on a nearby table.

"Indeed." Isabelle said, with the cup in her hand. She was on her way back, but needed to stop. She grasped the back of a chair to steady herself as she felt quite lightheaded. An added dose of nausea increased her malaise.

"Lady Isabelle? Are ye… quite yourself?" Mortianna inquired, noticing the lady was looking unwell, and appeared unsteady.

Isabelle closed her eyes and took some slow deep breaths for a few moments, before refocusing them.

"I'm fine. I will be fine." Isabelle smiled then walked toward her.

"Aye. Ye better have some of this batwing tea directly, child. Be seated. I'll bring it to ye." Mortianna said. She took the cup from Isabelle's hand.

Isabelle obliged and seated herself on one of the well cushioned chairs.

Mortianna used the cup to scoop a generous amount of steaming batwing tea from the pot. Then she covered the pot and took the cup to Isabelle.

"Thank you. I've heard this tea you brew works well for… nausea." Isabelle said.

"Aye. It works for a few things. Is that all ye need? Or, is there something troubling you, Milady?"

"Please. Be seated. I've a request of you, and it requires utmost discretion." Isabelle said, taking a sip of the tea.

Mortianna seated herself in a chair across from her, regarding Isabelle, curiously.

"Oh, my! This is going to take getting used to. It's… a bit bitter." Isabelle remarked.

"It's not the most smooth tasting. However, it works well for many things, as I mentioned. Ye should be feeling better in no time at all, child."

"I truly hope so. It's so bad, it's difficult to get this tea down." Isabelle sighed.

"Ye can't fool me, Milady. I… see things, ye know." Mortianna blurted.

"Of course. Portents. I'd forgotten — "

"Child, I don't need to use my third eye, or the tools I typically use to obtain portents to plainly see what the issue is. Ye are with child. It's as clear as my lovely new crystal ball." Mortianna gave a knowing look.

Isabelle sighed.

"Yes, Mortianna. You mustn't speak a word of this to anyone. That fact, or this meeting." Isabelle said.

"Very well. Although, I'm not sure why I'm here, Milady? Not that I object to your company, but… this is joyous news for you and your husband, is it not? How do I fit in to this — besides supplying the special tea that will prevent ye from heaving all over your nicely decorated chambers?" Mortianna asked, pointedly.

"That's the thing of it. It's not joyous news. Not for Robert and I. It never is. This will all be at an end soon. I suspect by Yule, by my calculations… " Isabelle began, letting the words trail off.

"I see… Oh, Merlin's wand! I'm not sure I like where you're heading with — "

"So, I was thinking that it would be best to… speed things along. And you, of all people, would know exactly how this could be achieved. Especially, at… this stage of it." Isabelle said, softly.

"Indeed. There are ways." Mortianna sighed. "A happily married woman has never once made this request of me, however. Unless, I've misinterpreted my observations of you and your husband. Are you not as happy as you pretend to be?"

"There's no pretending, Mortianna. Robert is the love of my life. I'd do anything for him; except, I'm not sure I can endure… this again." Isabelle said, pointing to her belly.

"I need to know more. I can't agree to this until I do." Mortianna said.

"I've money to pay you, If that is the issue."

"It's not the issue, Milady. The issue is ye are married. The child is your husband's, is it not?"

"Yes. Of course it is! It is Robert's child." Isabelle said, firmly.

"Are you expecting the child to have visible deformities?" the witch asked, matter of factly.

"What? No!"

"What do you mean by — you can't endure this again? What exactly happened in the past?"

"This is my fifth time carrying a child. All the others were lost very early on. I'm telling you, Mortianna. It's going to happen again. It always does. At this point, I'd rather have some control over the timing. I didn't think this could possibly happen again, but, it did. I thought I was… damaged."

"I see. And, does he know you're with child now?"

"Yes. Robert knows." Isabelle nodded as she sipped more of the tea.

"I see. Who else knows?"

"Only two others. Thomas Crumwell, and… Milord Sheriff." Isabelle sighed.

"How would Milord Sheriff know? Was it because he was needed to summon the medicus?"

"He came by this morning to see Robert. I was leaning out of the window of the bedchamber to breathe in some cool air to try to stay the nausea. Robert forgot to close the bedchamber doors when he answered the knock. Milord saw me in the distance, put two and two together, and… well, he was persistent. He swore he wouldn't divulge this." Isabelle sighed, then took another sip from her cup.

"And, have ye thought of how you'll explain this to those who know?"

"Yes. I will say I lost the child. Just like I lost the other four. It's nothing new." Isabelle shrugged.

"Right. And, how will you explain this to Robert, Milady? What about that?"

"The same as the answer I'd give to the other two. I lost the child. Just like I had before. At this point, it shouldn't come as a shock to him." Isabelle flatly remarked.

"And, have you thought at all about how ye will handle this secret for the rest of your life? The other four times, nature took its course, for reasons unexplained. This time, the loss of the child would be a result of your actions." Mortianna pointed out.

"I'd just be helping things along at a greater rate of speed. Would it really matter if it was destined to happen anyway?" Isabelle asked.

"Ye don't know this for certain, child. Ye can't know. It could turn out quite positively for ye."

"The odds are not in our favour of that being the case."

"Think on this: this could be your last chance at having the child ye have yearned for."

"Doubtful." Isabelle muttered.

"This can be arranged, and yield the result you're looking for. Alas, it will also, most definitely, yield a lifetime of regret. Carrying this secret will eat at you in the long run. When it comes to self sabotage, I must point out the problems that can ensue before we begin." Mortianna said, firmly.

"Self sabotage?"

"If you weren't convinced you'd lose this child, would you want the child?"

"Very much. Robert and I would love to have a child, but it's obviously not meant to be." Isabelle frowned, as she took a sip of the batwing tea. She set the cup down then stood. "Forgive me. I must step away for a moment. I keep getting a chill feeling deep in my bones." she shuddered. "I must grab my woollen shawl."

"Of course." Mortianna nodded.

After Isabelle stepped out of the room, the witch immediately walked to the table where Isabelle's cup was sitting on. She picked it up, glad to see the lady had finished it. She closed her eyes and turned the cup upside down on the table then righted it while opening her eyes. Then, she peered into the sediment left behind. She squinted her good eye and studied them. She saw something she'd never experienced before. Not just portents, but a vision of the future. The images began to fade after a few brief moments and she blinked her eyes a few times. Just then, Isabelle returned, holding the edges of an ivory coloured wool shawl close around her shoulders.

"Mortianna?" Isabelle asked, curiously.

"I thought ye might enjoy a top up of the tea, child. Would that be agreeable?" Mortianna asked as she held the cup in the air toward her.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, that would be grand. I do believe it's helping, Mortianna." Isabelle smiled.

"Good news, indeed, child. Do take a seat, before ye lose the colour in your cheeks again."

Mortianna took her a smaller measure of the tea. Isabelle took the cup from her and tasted a small sip before continuing.

"Have I answered enough of your questions to satisfy you, Mortianna?" Isabelle asked.

"I advise ye to think more on this, child. Think of your future. Keeping this secret will eventually divide you and your husband. It will, because I guarantee regret will seep in at some point. Give it another day or two." Mortianna instructed.

"Have you the materials you need to begin when I'm ready?"

"I do. But, I won't agree until you've thought more about it, child."

"Very well." Isabelle sighed. "You made some good points, even thought at this point in time, I see no difference in the outcome. I'll have the same outcome at a later time if I don't take matters into my own hands. History proves it to be so." she said, then sipped of the batwing tea.

"What about the medicus? Surely, he had recommendations for you?"

"Yes. He told me to rest as much as possible, keep myself nourished, and my fluid intake increased."

"Seems fair to me. Think on what he said, and definitely think on what I've just said. We mustn't be hasty with a decision like this one, child." the witch cautioned.

"Alright. I appreciate you taking the time, and for the tea."

"Of course. I best take leave before your husband returns."

"Indeed. And, please keep this to yourself."

"Of course, Lady Isabelle." Mortianna nodded.

The men were just finishing up in the back of Samson Fingle's property. Each of them had taken turns testing the crossbow, even the Sheriff at the urging of his men. At this point, Samson was having them test their longbows. Ancel was the last to test his. Samson was surprised how adept he was with it, and how many arrows he could fire rapidly — given the state of his longbow.

"Well! That was a miracle, Ancel!" Samson chuckled.

"What was, Samson?" Ancel asked.

"How shockingly good you are with that, when it's about to fall apart." Samson said.

"I… guess I never noticed." Ancel shrugged.

"Man, how could you not notice? There's a visible small tear in it!" Mordrid laughed.

"Honestly, I've only really used it for hunting, so, I guess I didn't pay close attention to it." Ancel said.

"So, you're telling me you haven't used it for anything but hunting?" Nottingham asked, curiously.

"Not in a long time, Milord. This was the bow I used to hunt with in the recent past. Probably the last time it was used for fighting was when I worked for the Sheriff of Hampshire." Ancel said.

"Really? Then explain how it is you're actually performing better with it than Mordrid, when he can fire twelve shots a minute?"

"I practice. A lot. Also, Mordrid had a long night. He's not as… fresh as he'd normally be." Ancel shrugged.

"That's true, but, I'm pretty sure I still fired my usual number of shots. You held out on us, Ancel. Damn! You're better than the lot of us!" Mordrid smiled as he playfully slapped Ancel on the back.

"Agreed. That was impressive." Nichol nodded.

"It is impressive, indeed. Especially since that bow is… shot. Again, pardon the pun. I thought Luke's longbow was in bad shape, but that one beats even it." Samson said, nodding to the longbow held in Ancel's left hand. He looked to both of the men. "I need to replace both of your longbows. Straightway."

"You sure mine needs replacing? I haven't even had this one a year yet." Luke asked.

"Uh… do you mind me asking… where did you obtain that one? That's not one of mine, for sure." a beat. "You didn't… craft that one yourself, did you?" Samson frowned.

"Negative. It was made for me by a bow craftsman in the County of York. Months before I arrived here." Luke said.

"I hope you didn't pay much for it, Luke, because, it's only slightly better than the state of Ancel's longbow." Samson said, shaking his head, and clicking his tongue a few beats.

"Good thing the bow craftsman was a friend of the family." Luke shrugged.

"Right. So, this puts a little kink in the timeline, no doubt. Now, evidently, we need two new longbows, as well as four crossbows." Nottingham sighed. "What is the timeframe we're looking at now, Samson?"

"Actually, Milord, you only need three crossbows. You're forgetting I already have one ready for you today, and none of your men have requested the newer model, the arbalest. That saves me time right there. I'll work on the longbows straightway, then start production on the crossbows. You'll need assembled bolts and quarrels, too. They're fussier to make than arrows." Samson explained.

"Right. How long, Fingle?" he pressed.

"I'll have the two longbows ready by late tomorrow afternoon. As for the crossbows… hmm." Samson pondered.

"How long?" Nottingham huffed.

"As I said, a couple of new ones would take a sennight. I would say ten days time to complete three new crossbows, Milord. I could push myself to finish the job quicker, but, I also don't want to compromise quality by rushing it." Samson explained.

The Sheriff sighed. He wanted these crossbows ready for the men in preparation for a few problems he was anticipating. He also knew he was going to need more after these ones were completed. He hoped that Nichol would accept the roles he offered him. The Sheriff was hoping Nichol could start training many more of the men to use crossbows.

"If that timeline can be pushed up, that would be grand. Fine. Ten days time and not a day longer." he said, firmly.

"Indeed, Milord." Samson nodded. He looked to the rest of the men. "Just so I'm clear on the requests, are any of you interested in the arbalest model of crossbow?"

"That's a no from me." Nichol answered, shaking his head.

"Only two shots per minute? Feck that. Just the basic one for me." Mordrid said.

"I agree with Mordrid. Not when I can fire… I'm actually not sure how many shots in a minute, but at least five or six times the number of the arbalest one." Ancel said.

"Seven times. You were shooting fourteen arrows in the same amount of time I shot twelve. I counted them." Mordrid pointed out.

"I… had no idea." Ancel shrugged.

"It's not a competition, men. You're all skilled with your longbows." the Sheriff pointed out.

"That's a negative for me, too, on the arbalest crossbow, Samson." Luke said.

"Good. The arbalest model takes longer to make." he said. Then he looked to the Sheriff. "I had only started on it to begin with to show it to you, Milord, to see if you might be interested in such a weapon."

"Looks like you can put that one on hold for now, Fingle." Nottingham said.

"Indeed. Shall I bring the two new longbows to you on the morrow?"

"No. That will slow you down when you could start on the crossbows." he said. He looked to Luke. "You shall come and pick up the longbows on the morrow, Luke."

"Very well, Milord." Luke nodded, pleased to have been given the assignment.

"It will be late afternoon when they're completed, Luke. Come sometime around then." Samson instructed.

"Of course." Luke nodded.

The ladies were strolling through the market, so far, uninspired by the wares that were being sold. They had been there almost an hour and we're debating about heading back.

"It's great to be out of the confines of the castle, Meridwyn. Too bad I can't shake the guilty feeling I have, though." Rhiannon said.

"Guilt over what?" Meridwyn asked.

"A couple of things. Guilt that we're here semi enjoying ourselves while my sister in law is feeling so ill. And guilt because… George has no idea I left. He's lectured me so many times against doing this." she sighed as she pulled up the hood of her black velvet cape, and held the edges of it closer together to warm her.

"That man needs to simmer down. For God's sake, we're still within the city walls. It's afternoon, and I'm with you. This market is well populated. Would anyone dare to come after you with so many witnesses around? They'd have to be mad." Meridwyn said, shaking her head.

"And, all it has turned out to be is a simple outing. Have you seen anything that interests you?"

"Not really. No. It's nice to enjoy some fresh air with my friend for a change, though. Just like what we used to do, Rhi. Except… "

"Yes, it's kind of like old times. Except… what, Meridwyn?"

"I just realized Guy will probably be cross with me, too. I didn't tell him I was leaving, and he probably won't like that I went riding in my condition."

"It's not like we are far from the castle."

"True. But, you know how they can be."

"Oh, do I!" Rhiannon sighed.

At this point, her eyes caught a glimpse of some paintings on display inside a beige coloured canvas tent. There was a man with dark curly hair seated on a chair inside, looking to be writing something in a book; perhaps, a journal.

"I was hoping to see a throw to take home, but I haven't seen one I like. You ready to head back?" Meridwyn asked.

"In a few moments. I'd like to look at those paintings in that tent." Rhiannon said as she unobtrusively pointed in the direction of the tent.

"Very well."

The ladies walked toward it and stepped inside. It was then Rhiannon noticed the man hadn't been writing, but sketching.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Yes? Oh! Good afternoon, ladies." the young man smiled as he stood from his chair. He held his sketchbook and charcoal in his hands.

"I couldn't help but notice these paintings. Are you the artist?" Rhiannon inquired.

"I am, indeed. I am Michael." he nodded.

"Pleased to meet you, Michael. I'm Rhiannon. This is my friend, Lady Meridwyn Gisborne." she said, nodding to Meridwyn.

"As in… Sir Guy of Gisborne? The Sheriff's Lieutenant?" Michael asked.

"Indeed. I am his wife. And, I'm not sure why she didn't introduce herself properly, and is being so evasive, but… she is the Sheriff's new bride." Meridwyn smiled, as she nodded to her friend while holding her gaze with the artist.

"You don't say? I've met both of them." Michael smiled.

"You have?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. It was a few months ago now when I met your husband, Milady. The Sheriff commissioned me to reproduce drawings of two wanted persons which one of his men had initially sketched, for the purpose of adding to several proclamations." Michael said.

"Ah, yes. I… remember that." Rhiannon sighed. "The… drawings you did were… nicely done."

"I can't take credit for that part of it, Milady. Turns out one of the Black Knights is quite the artist. All I did was copy the drawings along with my assistant for mass production of the proclamations."

"I see." Rhiannon nodded.

"I met Sir Gisborne briefly at that time, but he came to see me two days ago with the Sheriff's former Captain, Nichol." Micheal said, addressing Meridwyn.

"Really? Can you share what that was regarding, Michael?" Meridwyn asked.

"Yes. They gave me a sketch of a man at the top of Milord's wanted list. They wanted a painting done from the sketch. They explained it was to be used for a drinking game that evening for a celebration for the Sheriff."

"Seriously?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. They told me I didn't need to be too fussy with it, because it was going to be used as a target for a dagger throwing game." Michael explained.

"Interesting." Rhiannon said.

"I guess that's what he meant when he commented to his men about how well your brother did with that, Rhiannon." Meridwyn said.

"Indeed." she nodded.

"Is there anything in particular you're looking for, Milady?"

"I'm looking for something to gift to my husband. I already have a wedding gift for him, but he has given me a few gifts, and I want to give him something extra."

"I see. You know… I might have just the thing." Michael smiled. He gestured for the ladies to follow him near the back of the tent.

"I completed this a few months ago. I don't even know what compelled me to sketch it in the first place; perhaps just the sheer magnificence of it? But then, after I painted it, I wondered what I'd do with it. If anyone should have this piece, it should be Milord Sheriff." he said as he lifted a sheet off the canvas that was resting on an easel.

"Oh, my! You've captured it beautifully, Michael!" Rhiannon smiled as she moved in closer to study the painting. "What do you think, Meridwyn?" she asked her friend.

"It looks so very real. The way you've captured the magick of it at twilight. With a visible moon, yet you can still see streaks of the setting sun low on the horizon. The way it hits the stone, and casts that lovely warm colour, with lit torches dotting it. It's exquisite!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"I thank you, ladies. I do prefer realism when I paint." Michael nodded.

"I'm thinking George would like this painting very much." Rhiannon said.

"Indeed. I can't think of a more thoughtful surprise for him, Rhi. I think he will love it." Meridwyn agreed.

"That may be a challenge to carry back, though." Rhiannon frowned.

"I'd be pleased to deliver it to you, Milady, should you decide you'd like to have it." Michael said.

"You would? That would be perfect. Yes. I love this painting, Michael. My husband and I both shall cherish this, even though it will be his gift. I definitely want this painting. What is your price?" Rhiannon asked.

"Normally, the price would be twenty gold pieces; but, since this is for his Lordship who was decent to me and my assistant in the recent past, I would wager… ten gold pieces should do it." Michael smiled.

"For that?" Meridwyn asked, pointing to the painting.

"Indeed." Michael said, with a curious quirk of his brow.

"It's a bargain, Rhi. You can't go wrong with that price. That painting is perfection." Meridwyn smirked.

Michael exhaled a sigh of relief, looked down and smiled.

"I agree, Sister." Rhiannon smiled. She opened her drawstring sack and extracted the appropriate amount of coins and passed them to Michael. "Would you be able to frame that before you deliver it?" she asked.

"Of course, Milady. Any particular variety of wood? I have an assortment." Michael said. He took the coins from her and pocketed them.

"Something dark and rich… like him." she smirked. "Perhaps cherry wood? Or, mahogany."

"Very well." he nodded. "Although, I do think cherry wood would pick up the colours used in the painting better."

"Yes. I think you're right about that. How soon can you deliver it?"

"I'd just need a few hours. I was about to close up shop here. Would that be suitable for you, Milady Rhiannon?"

"Indeed."

"Probably around sundown, or shortly after." Michael said.

"Very well. Be sure to ask for me. Do not mention my husband. You will most likely see the Scribe upon arrival. If you see the Page, ask for the Scribe. I can't have mistakes made, and the lad is not the most reliable." Rhiannon frowned.

"Understood, Milady. I shall ask to speak to the Scribe."

"And, from there you shall say you've a package to be delivered to Lady Rhiannon Nottingham. The package is to be brought to the Sheriff's private chambers. I will handle it from there." Rhiannon said.

"Of course, Milady Rhiannon." Michael nodded.

"Perfect. I shall see you in a few hours hence. Be careful with that painting, Michael. It mustn't get damaged while being moved." Rhiannon warned.

"Agreed." he nodded.

The ladies left them and walked through the crowds toward where their horses were secured. As they neared closer, a woman bumped into them.

"Forgive me. I wasn't paying attention." the woman said as she bent down to pick up her drawstring bag that was knocked out of her hand.

"Lady Gunilda?" Rhiannon asked.

Lady Gunilda stood up and smiled.

"Good day, Lady Rhiannon. I'm surprised to see you here after the injuries you sustained last evening. It's good to see you looking hale."

"Indeed. What brings you here?" she asked.

"I'm surprised you wish to speak to her at all, Rhi — after what you told me on Monday night following your little chat with her in the corridor." Meridwyn sighed.

"Why is that, Lady Meridwyn?" Gunilda asked.

"You were his lover once. She told me all about it, as I had questions when she returned to us." Meridwyn replied, nodding to her friend.

"That was many, many moons ago. Almost twenty years. And, it certainly wasn't the kind of relationship he has with Lady Rhiannon." Gunilda shrugged.

"Perhaps that's why you're still here? Perhaps you wish to slither your way into his breeches again, just waiting for the right moment to strike, like a snake in the grass?" Meridwyn said with a knowing quirk of her brow.

"Oh, for God's sake." Rhiannon muttered.

"I'm afraid you've got that all wrong, Lady Meridwyn. I'm an independent woman. That's how I like it. I've no interest in supplanting Lady Rhiannon and taking her place. In fact, I fully support their union." Gunilda said.

"Meridwyn, there's no need for you to be so — " Rhiannon was interrupted.

"You expect me to believe that? You might have her fooled, but you can't fool me. What woman doesn't want a husband, or — "

"Me. I don't, and I never wanted it. I'm a little different from most ladies, Lady Meridwyn. It's hard enough for an ordinary woman to be understood, especially by her man. It's even difficult for a woman like me to be understood by most women. Even if I take that out of the equation, this is my preference. I prefer to be in charge of my own life." Gunilda said, confidently.

"But you were… his lover." Meridwyn pointed out. "Surely, you had hopes of how that would turn out?"

"Because that's how you would think? It really was nothing more than passing time, to be frank about it. We had fun and that was it, on the occasions he happened to be passing through my town. We didn't see each other often. Then, it was over and we both moved on. No one died over it. Neither of us shed a tear." Gunilda explained.

"Well, this was an encounter that could have been pleasant, but you had to make it awkward, Meridwyn." Rhiannon sighed.

"I can't believe you're taking her words at face value, Rhi? How are you alright with this?"

"They're friends, Meridwyn. Not lovers. We were wee tots back then. What does it matter now?"

"Friends. Bah! That can lead to — "

"I assure you, I'm not interested. Although, I am interested in someone else entirely." Gunilda said.

"It better not be my Guy!" Meridwyn huffed.

"The man whom holds my interest is unmarried, and has no lady friend to speak of. And, even though he interests me, I have no desire for marriage." Gunilda sighed.

"Sounds like something a whore might say." Meridwyn said, tersely.

"I'm not that, either." Gunilda sighed.

"You were about to tell me what brought you to the market, Lady Gunilda." Rhiannon reminded her.

"Just picking up a few essentials for the evening meal. I'm expecting company." Gunilda smiled.

"You've made friends already. How quaint." Meridwyn muttered.

"Meridwyn, for heaven's sake!" Rhiannon admonished.

"Who's coming over? My brother in law — Milord Sheriff, to you?" Meridwyn asked.

"The man was only married yesterday, Lady Meridwyn. Why would he leave his new bride? I'm having a friend over. Nothing more. Nothing less." a beat. "You know, womankind would survive a lot better if we didn't feel the need to sabotage one another. That may be too progressive an ideal for you, however." Gunilda said, matter of factly.

"Are you doubting my husband's devotion to me, Meridwyn?" Rhiannon asked, pointedly.

"No. Of course not. But, women like her need to be watched."

"My! Such venom! Perhaps one day you and I can sit down together, cordially, over a cup of tea. Or, wine — your choice; and I can enlighten you further about the reasons I'm different from you, Milady Meridwyn. It's all about perspective. We are different, but we're still women." Gunilda said.

"God knows, that would certainly be interesting." Meridwyn huffed.

"You needn't worry, Milady Meridwyn." Gunilda said.

"Pardon?"

"You needn't worry about your husband, or your friend's husband. It takes two people, you know. If a man is looking to go elsewhere for pleasure, he'll find a way. They won't if they're devoted, however. And, from what I've seen so far, the Sheriff and his Lieutenant are devoted to their wives."

"How nice of you to share that observation. You know nothing of my husband!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"For God's sake, Meridwyn! Lower your voice." Rhiannon admonished in a whisper.

"No. I don't know him, Milady. And, you don't know me. You're judging me based on something that took place nineteen years ago. That's fine, Milady. You do you. I'm going to be staying in Nottingham, so perhaps it would be wise for you to find a way to focus more on yourself. I'm no threat to you." Gunilda said.

"Right. Then, do you mind telling me what you were doing there in the shed last night when all hell was breaking loose?" Meridwyn asked, pointedly.

"I knew Celestria before she came here. I was a neighbour and friend to her family. I thought I might be able to reason with her, but, it soon became painfully clear that reasoning would never work." Gunilda sighed.

"Then, why did you remain there? If you couldn't reason with her, then you obviously were not needed." Meridwyn pointed out.

"For crying out loud, Meridwyn! The hell is wrong with you?" Rhiannon asked, softly. She shook her head and sighed.

"It's alright, Lady Rhiannon. She has questions. I understand." Gunilda said. Then she looked to Meridwyn. "Your hostility level toward me is too high at the moment for me to explain it to you, Milady. I was there to help, not insinuate myself into the Sheriff's personal life. I mentioned earlier that I fully support the union between he and Lady Rhiannon, and I truly meant it."

"Shocking." Meridwyn sighed.

"Why don't you two visit me sometime? It will just be the three of us. Since I'm planning to stay in town I'd prefer not to make enemies. I will explain everything to you. Would that be agreeable?" Gunilda suggested.

"You can't be serious?" Meridwyn asked, incredulously.

"I'm not jesting, Milady. How about Friday afternoon?"

"That sounds grand, Lady Gunilda. Only if she promises to behave herself." Rhiannon smiled, nodding beside her to her friend.

"Sounds like some kind of trap to me." Meridwyn muttered.

"I'll leave that with you ladies. If you show, that's great. If not, I understand. When you're ready to truly hear me, you're welcome to come by. Now, I best be on my way. I have some things I need to purchase, then I must get home to start meal preparation." Gunilda smiled.

"Of course, Lady Gunilda. I hope to see you then." Rhiannon smiled.

"I wish you both a pleasant day." Gunilda nodded to them both, then was on her way.

Rhiannon shook her head as they started walking toward their horses, stunned by Meridwyn's outburst.

"Honestly, Meridwyn! You don't even know her and you began by judging her, and questioning her. A simple encounter that could have been pleasant for a moment or two. Next time there's an opening for an interrogator on George's team, I'm directing him to you." Rhiannon sighed.

"I can't understand for the life of me how you're agreeable to your husband's former lover deciding to stay in this town? You've sustained far two many injuries these last ten days. I fear you must have hit your head?" Meridwyn said, shaking her head.

"She's not lying. And, I believe my husband." Rhiannon said, firmly.

"How do you know she's not lying? You barely know the woman." Meridwyn pointed out.

"Because it was confirmed to me by Mortianna. Evidently, I shall have to fill you in, so you don't make a right fool of yourself on Friday."

"What? You actually wish to indulge her with this ridiculous fantasy of hers where she plans to entertain us — as if we're all long lost friends?" Meridwyn asked, incredulously.

"Yes."

"I was using the word 'entertain' facetiously, Rhi. She might be planning to poison us, for all you know!"

"Stop arguing with me, Meridwyn. It's time you listen to me, and listen well. I shall tell you what Mortianna shared with me on Monday, and my first encounter with Lady Gunilda." Rhiannon said.

"Fine. I need a good laugh for the ride home." Meridwyn huffed.

The men had arrived back at the castle. The top men took all of their horses to the stables as the Sheriff and Nichol walked across the courtyard. As they neared the main entrance, Nichol looked curiously to his friend.

"Well, it looks like you're set for weapons now, George." Nichol said.

"Bah! It doesn't even begin to cover it." the Sheriff muttered.

"Whatever do you mean? Wasn't that the goal? Get the top men crossbows?"

"It's not the goal, Nic. It's only a start." he said.

"A very good start, I would say." Nichol added.

"Three crossbows don't even begin to cover it, especially at only three shots per minute. We need more of them and more men trained to use them. If a bunch of malcontents show up here wearing plate armour, trust me — we'll need the extra edge." Nottingham said.

"What are you planning?" Nichol asked.

"It depends on a number of things. If we don't find the escaped prisoner soon, we'll need to expand the search outside of the county. If I decide to send all three of the top men out, it's going to take ten days for them to have their crossbows, and they'll need some training. Then, I'd like to get some of the others accustomed to using them, as well. And, that part of it depends on whom shall train them." Nottingham said as he shot Nichol a knowing look.

"I see. So, you need an answer from me."

"It would be helpful. You did tell me on Sunday evening you'd give me an answer the following day." a beat. "I'm still waiting, Nic."

"Fine. I'll agree to train them. I'm still deciding on the rest of it." Nichol sighed.

The Sheriff stopped in his tracks and turned to face him.

"What is holding you back, Nic? You belong here. Is there someone waiting in the wings for you that's influencing your decision?"

"No. There is the matter of my leg, however." Nichol sighed.

"The only physical part of what will be required of you is training the men. We can easily have a chair placed outside for you to use if needs be. Surely, you know that I'd do everything to accommodate you? We are friends, Nic. For damn near our entire lives!"

"I know, mate. I just don't… wish to ever slow you down."

"It never occurred to me that you would. And, you wouldn't be my only Advisor. Must I remind you that Robert is my Advisor, as well?" Nottingham pointed out.

"No. I haven't forgotten." Nichol said, softly.

"So? Where do we stand on this, Nic? Have you had enough time to think on it?" the Sheriff asked, pointedly.

"Very well, friend. I will accept." Nichol nodded, and reached out to shake his hand.

"Good. That's one burden lifted from my shoulders." he sighed. "Now, you mind telling me what all that was about at Fingle's shop? You interrogated the man as if he were a wanted criminal."

"It was shocking to find out he supplies you now, George. Three years ago you would've considered him an associate of Hood's. He aided Hood and his men by exclusively supplying them." Nichol pointed out.

"Perhaps we should have had a chat about this before I took you over there. All of that is past, Nic. He's a fine bow craftsman and we're pleased that he works with us now."

"Yes. Both of you explained this. I suppose I'm just having a time adjusting to the many changes I've witnessed since Prince John vehemently encouraged me to come here three days ago." Nichol shrugged.

"Any regrets?" he asked.

"No, George. I'm glad to be back. I've missed my friend. The last time I saw you before Sunday, I thought I was going to die, and Hood was still alive."

"There is still much I need to share with you. As I told you on Sunday, it would probably take a sennight to fill you in on all that you've missed."

"Indeed, mate." Nichol agreed as they recommenced walking toward the main entrance. "I'm a bit surprised you didn't want to drop in at the butcher shop on the way back? Gis told me about the issues with Massacriar, and the horse and… donkey meat he's passing off as beef." Nichol said with a grimace.

"Trust me, Nic. I've not forgotten about it. I'm planning to take Guy there tomorrow, along with one of my men, because I want some muscle with me. Care to join us?" the Sheriff asked.

"Seriously?"

"No. I just wanted to see the look on your face." a beat. "Of course, I'm serious!"

"If you think I can be of service, I'll be happy to join you." Nichol nodded.

"Good. I get the impression that the butcher isn't on the friendliest of terms with those on the Council, so he probably hasn't heard that you're alive and back with us. Just seeing you will set him off kilter, and will have quite the impact as we proceed with getting down to business." Nottingham explained.

"Perfect. I like how you think, mate. Except, who will run things with all of us absent?"

"Robert, and the Captain. I'm sure it will be fine. They've both managed it in the past. I'm not expecting we'll be there long, anyway. From the things we heard from Cerdric, Matheus Busby, and Fingle at the latest meeting, I imagine it's not going to… smell very pleasant in there." Nottingham sneered.

"Oh. Thanks for the heads up, mate. I'll defer breaking my fast until we've payed a visit to him." Nichol sighed, making a face.

"Indeed." Nottingham nodded as he held the door open for Nichol. "Splendid idea. I think it's best I do the same. I better advise Gis of this. That man has a weak stomach at the best of times."

"Still?" Nichol asked.

"Some things never change, Nic." Nottingham smirked.

Once inside, they came across Robert speaking with the Scribe. They were coming out of the Council Quarters together. The Sheriff and Nichol advanced toward them.

"Ah! There you are. I was just looking for you, when I ran into Percival." Robert greeted him.

"Have you seen him yet, Robert? The one I sent you to?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes. I just returned a short time ago."

"Good. Let's convene in the Council Quarters." he suggested. He turned to Nichol. "That includes you, Nic."

"Very well." Nichol nodded.

"Will I be needed, Milord?" the Scribe asked.

"No. Not at this time."

The Scribe nodded and took leave of them. The men entered into the meeting chamber and the Sheriff closed the door behind them.

"Before we begin, I'm informing you that we now have a second Advisor on our team." he said.

"You've accepted?" Robert asked Nichol.

"Yes."

"Very good." Robert smiled.

"That's not all. Nichol shall also assume the role of Chief Weapons Trainer." the Sheriff added.

"Good news, indeed! Well done, Nichol."

"Thank you, Robert." Nichol nodded.

"Does this mean things went well with the bow craftsman fellow, Fingle?" Robert asked.

"Yes. He's working on two replacement longbows for two of the men, then he shall craft three crossbows for us. We have one in our possession right now."

"Indeed. And, I'm keeping that baby close to me until training begins." Nichol added, nodding to the sack slung over his shoulder which contained the weapon.

"Still treats his weapons like a child would a teddy." the Sheriff smirked at Robert, nodding to his friend. He couldn't help but think of his child whom, evidently, was quite attached to his own teddy.

"Probably not such a bad thing." Robert said.

"Indeed. So, you just returned from meeting with the Barrister, Ranulf Verdun?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes. He was most helpful." Robert nodded.

"And, what of the legitimacy of Lady Gunilda's claim to that estate? Was Gamel Hayward really her uncle?"

"Indeed, Milord. Verdun pulled his copy of the document and showed it to me. It wasn't forged."

"So, he just took her at her word that she claimed to be the man's niece?" the Sheriff asked, suspiciously quirking his brow.

"No. Gamel introduced Ranulf Verdun to her a year before he died." Robert said.

"Did you ask him to describe her?" he asked, curiously.

"Yes, Milord. He described her accurately."

"Right. So, if we're to believe him, the estate was handled properly."

"Indeed. It seems that everything is in order." Robert nodded.

"And, we're certain that he really is a Barrister?" he asked.

"Well, if he's not, he's a damn good thespian, Milord. He has a magnificently furnished and decorated office; a large mahogany cabinet overflowing with documents; an assistant; and a man working outside his office who looks after Verdun's clients' horses." Robert said as his eyebrow quirked, knowingly.

"Sounds legit, George. He must be doing well for himself, too, since he can afford to pay an assistant, and another to look after their clients' horses." Nichol added.

"What's your impression, Robert?" Nottingham asked.

"I believe him to be a Barrister, and his account of the story adds up. I didn't bother to question his education and credentials once I saw his place of business, both inside and out; and then, heard him speak. He is, indeed, a Barrister. I believe the estate was handled appropriately, and that the woman we know to be Gunilda Hayward is, indeed, the legitimate heir of Gamel Hayward." Robert said, confidently.

"She didn't lie… " Nottingham muttered, quietly.

"What's that, mate?" Nichol asked.

"That is fine. That will do nicely. Thank you, Robert."

"Of course, Milord."

"Have you seen Guy, or the Captain since you returned?" he asked.

"No. The only one I saw was Percival, Milord. Shall I find them for you?"

"No. That's fine, Robert. I'm sure you'd like to… check in on that matter we spoke of this morning." Nottingham said with a knowing look.

"Indeed, Milord. Yes. I shall do that now." Robert nodded, before taking leave of them.

"What was all that about, George? The bottom line, I mean?" Nichol asked.

"We've a newcomer in town from Derbyshire. She's the heir of a Nottingham resident who recently died. She is also known to me, from many years ago. Verifying her claim to the estate was not just to check for fraudulent activity, but, also part of a vetting process." he explained.

"Whom were you vetting? The Barrister?"

"No. The woman who inherited the estate. Gunilda Hayward."

"Whatever for? If she's recently come into some wealth, I doubt she has need to work as a servant here."

"It's not for a servant role, Nic. It's for the role of espial." the Sheriff said, simply.

"WHAT?"

The men had just finished taking the horses to the young stable master who was temporarily standing in for Gervase. They were walking together, as they emerged from the stables.

"Well, that was quite an amusing distraction from the usual day to day tasks we're generally assigned to." Mordrid remarked.

"Indeed. I wonder how long it will be before I'm comfortable using one of those damn things, though?" Ancel pondered.

"You jesting, mate? Your skills with the longbow are better than anyone I've ever seen handle one — even Milord Sheriff! If you can handle that, you're going to be fine." Mordrid smiled.

"They're very different weapons, Mordrid." Ancel pointed out.

"He's right, Ancel." Luke added. "You might be one of those rare crossbowmen Samson spoke of who are so highly skilled, you'll be firing more of those… bolts than the rest of us."

"We shall see." Ancel shrugged.

"I hope Nic stays on to train us. He was very good with his crossbow. He was the only one who used one regularly." Mordrid said.

"Let us hope. Otherwise, we'll be making an appointment with Samson to sort us out." Ancel said.

They passed the area where some of the men would practice with their bows and swords, as they moved away from the stables.

"Is that… Castor and Emory over there? I thought it was their day off?" Mordrid pointed them out to his mates.

"It is their day off." Luke shrugged.

Emory noticed the men and waved to them. The men walked over to them to greet them.

"Well, look at you two! Being so diligent with your training. I thought you would be relaxing today?" Mordrid said.

"We'll never get off portcullis duty if we don't start demonstrating skills on a level with you lads." Castor said.

"Indeed, Cas." Emory nodded. Then he looked to the the three top men. "We're just finishing up here. We're going to hit the tavern at sundown. Would you care to join us?"

"Regretfully, I must decline. I was awake most of the night. Not sure I'll be fit for spirits, frankly." Mordrid frowned.

"I appreciate the invite, but I've been… a bit under the weather of late. I should stick to staying on the property." Luke said.

"Yes, we noticed." Castor said.

"Indeed, Cas." Emory nodded. Then he looked to Luke. "We were asking Drake and Adam if you were alright a few days ago. You looked exhausted, yet… you were full of vigour at the same time?"

"Yes, it was… very peculiar, indeed. I'm starting to feel a bit more like my usual self, finally." Luke explained, then looked downcast.

"What about you, Ancel?" Emory asked.

"I shall have to decline, too. Only because I may be needed early on the morrow if Milord sends us out on the never ending search mission for the escaped prisoner." he said.

"That's too bad. We must do it another time." Castor smiled.

The top men nodded in agreement.

"Good thing you arrived when you did. We're expecting a visitor to the castle today, and we're guessing she'll be coming in a carriage." Castor said.

"Luckily, the timing worked out. The Sheriff may have been displeased to be kept waiting behind it at the portcullis." Emory added.

"Really? Whom would that be? The dark haired witchy woman?" Mordrid asked, curiously.

"No, not her. The Madam from the brothel." Emory smirked.

"Really?" Luke asked, his curiosity suddenly piqued. He guessed she was coming to see Floria.

"Yes, it's quite an interesting turn of events." Emory replied.

"How so?" Luke pressed.

"It's a good one." Emory grinned, then looked to his mate. "Tell him, Cas."

"Yes, quite intriguing. A comely young blonde maiden who works here now, seems to know the Madam quite well… oddly." Castor said with a quirk of his brow. "She came to see me on Monday with a missive, asking me to take it to the brothel and deliver it to Madam Birghiva… for some peculiar reason.. We'd met briefly before — " Castor was interrupted.

"And then, she personally asked Castor to deliver it for her." Emory explained. Then he looked to his mate. "Maybe she's sweet on you, Cas?"

"Wouldn't that be a pleasant distraction, Emmer? Damn fine looking maiden, if I do say so! Boy, would I like to put my face between her — "

"Milord Sheriff has rules about that, in case you'd forgotten." Luke said curtly, with a sneer. He instinctively placed his right hand upon the pommel of his sword.

Ancel gently grasped Luke's arm from the back, unbeknownst to Emory and Castor, in an attempt to calm him.

"Indeed. And, what an absolute fucking shame!" Castor sighed.

"No doubt." Mordrid muttered, keeping his eyes on Luke.

"Relax, Cas. She's probably a servant. Do you really wish to get mixed up with a servant?" Emory asked.

"Hmm. Good point, Emmer. Except, I'd only need about an hour of her time." Castor smirked.

"She is a dressmaker. She is assisting Lady Rhiannon's Wardrobe Mistress, Madam Oberon, actually." Luke said, firmly.

"Oh. Great!" Castor smiled.

"Rules, Castor." Mordrid reminded him.

"Right." Castor frowned.

"Strange how she seems well acquainted with the Madam?" Emory pondered.

"Perhaps you should drop by the brothel later in order to get that out of your system?" Luke snarled, addressing Castor.

"Luke." Mordrid whispered.

"The hell is up your arse, Luke?" Castor asked.

"Just reminding you of… the rules." Luke muttered.

"The man just wants a quick fuck. How is that breaking any rules? Nobody said anything about a courtship?" Emory pointed out.

"Did you even notice how young she is?" Luke demanded.

"Ah, but that's when they're at their best. Nice and tight… in all the right places!" Castor grinned deviously, then finished with a wink of his brown eye.

Luke looked to the ground and took some deep breaths, attempting to conceal his rancor. He held firm to the pommel of his sword, to the point that his knuckles turned white.

"Are you… quite yourself, Luke? You're… trembling." Emory asked.

"I'm just fi — "

"No. He's not himself. We must get him to his chambers." Mordrid said, hurriedly. He looked to Ancel and nodded.

"Indeed. It's been a long afternoon. His first outing since he came down with… whatever that was that was ail — " Ancel started to say, but was interrupted.

"I'm fine!" Luke said, tersely. Then he looked to Castor. "And, you need to learn a few things about consent before saying such things!" he exclaimed.

"Consent? Bah! The hell are you on about? Who is giving a rat's fart about that? Hate to tell ye, but it's eleven ninety seven. When did blokes ever care about that?" Castor scoffed.

"Decent blokes do." Luke huffed.

"Well, aren't ye the most high one, Liege Lord? The fuck is up your arse, mate?" Castor asked, shaking his head.

"Perhaps we should ask Drake or Adam at the portcullis to send for the medicus? You're… not yourself, Luke?" Emory commented.

"Sure. Summon him. One of us needs their head examined by Crumwell, but it's not me." Luke seethed with his jaw firmly set, glaring at Castor.

"I beg your pardon!" Castor objected.

"Easy. He's not feeling too good." Ancel said, nodding to Luke.

"I'm sure he'll be fine after a little rest." Mordrid said. He grabbed Luke's arm, trying to usher him away.

"I agree, Mordrid." Ancel nodded. He looked to Luke. "Come, Luke. It's been a… long day."

"Right." Luke muttered.

"We'll catch you again when you're feeling better, and discuss a good time to meet up at the tavern." Emory said, as the men started to guide Luke away from them.

"Hopefully, he'll be in a better state then." Castor said to Mordrid and Ancel, nodding to Luke.

"We look forward to it." Ancel smiled, ruefully.

The men made it twenty yards before Luke could no longer hold back.

"If he dares to touch a hair on her head, I'll saw his bollocks off!" Luke hissed.

"Ignore the emotion, Luke. Use your logic. He didn't know. He was just engaging in usual banter." Ancel pointed out, attempting to assuage him.

"The way he spoke of her! Like, he plans to violate her!" Luke exclaimed.

"I personally think that was just all talk, trying to appear important to us. Castor wouldn't do that. I'd be surprised." Mordrid added.

"There's other ways he could have opted for to impress us. I'm going to have to have a chat with her. I don't want her leaving on her own." Luke said.

"Maybe you should teach her how to defend herself, Luke? Just in case she's ever in that sort of situation again." Ancel advised.

"I've been considering that, especially since she nearly died last night." Luke sighed. "But, what gives him the right to speak of her like that? I've a mind to go back there and put some bloody manners on him!" Luke exclaimed, as he turned around and began to walk back.

"Oh, no you don't!" Mordrid said. He looked to Ancel. "Ancel?" he nodded, with a knowing look.

The two men turned and moved swiftly toward him. Each put their hands on his arms to stay him.

"Let me at him!" Luke exclaimed.

"No, Luke. Bad idea. You're going to raise suspicion with them that's its you breaking the rules, and then you'll face the Sheriff's ire. He gave you a pass for Saturday night." Mordrid reminded him.

"But, he's going to try something with Floria! He made that very clear." Luke argued.

"He's right, Luke. Take a breath, and let's go inside." Ancel said.

"Damn it!" Luke shouted.

"There you go. Curse all you want, mate. You can do that until you lose your breath. You won't be starting a fight with one of the Black Knights, though." Mordrid said, firmly.

"I want to kill him!" Luke seethed.

"I'm sure, mate. It's fine to be angry, but don't lose control. Don't bring into question your mental fitness to handle your role. Ancel is right. Use logic, not emotion." Mordrid added.

"Fuck!" Luke hissed.

"Come on, mate. Perhaps we should get you sorted with a strong beverage?" Ancel suggested as they approached the doors of the front entrance.

"Good idea, Ancel." Mordrid nodded.

"Fine. I'll go. You don't need to hold my hands as if I'm five, though." Luke huffed.

The Sheriff and Nichol were exiting the Council Quarters when they noticed the three top men walking by. Ancel and Mordrid were flanking Luke, talking quietly with him. The Sheriff couldn't help but notice that Luke appeared distressed for some peculiar reason, and that the other two appeared to be holding him as they walked.

"Did Luke seem okay to you at Fingle's shop, Nic?" he asked softly, while keeping his eyes on his men.

"Well, I don't know him as well as you or the others do, but, he seemed fine." Nichol shrugged.

"Something's wrong." he sighed.

"Shall I look for Gis to ask if everything is in order since we were out for a time? Then, you can have a moment with your men." Nichol suggested.

"If you see him, or the Captain you can ask, but don't bother yourself looking for them, Nic. You should safely tuck away that crossbow."

"Very well. I'll catch up with you later." Nic nodded, then took leave of him.

The Sheriff began to walk toward his men who were just ahead of him, but were so busy trying to calm Luke, none of them noticed him. He stayed several paces back, but he was able to hear some of what they were saying.

"Come, Luke. Just a bit farther until we reach the Dining Hall." Mordrid said.

"I know where the Dining Hall is! For God's sake, you two are acting as if I were some kind of criminal, and I'm not being funny about it! At least let go of my arms!" Luke huffed.

"We're not leaving you until you've properly calmed down, mate." Ancel said, firmly.

"How could I be calm? What if he'd made a remark like that about Rebeccah, Ancel? Could you stay calm?"

"Firstly, keep it down. Sounds carry in this gargantuan castle!" Ancel admonished, quietly. "And, as to your question, I would count to ten in my head, then walk away. It's not worth it, Luke."

"He's right, Luke. He tried to tell you. Logic over emotion." Mordrid said.

The Sheriff was trying to figure out what they were referring to, and why the men were ushering him, holding each of his arms? Now, he was only hearing bits of the conversation, as Mordrid and Ancel kept their voices hushed for the most part. Although, he did catch what Mordrid just said, and wondered what he meant by "logic over emotion"?

"You're telling me you'd be okay with someone speaking of your wife that way?" Luke asked.

"No. I wouldn't be okay with it, as you said, but… " Mordrid began, letting his words trail off.

"But… what?"

"She's had a baby. That would probably disqualify her from that sort of… talk." Mordrid said.

"Bollocks! Tell that to my dead mother who had three children, not including the two babies she lost. Those beasts who assaulted her didn't give a flying fig about it!" Luke spat. "Why won't you two let go of me?"

"You know why, mate." Mordrid said.

"Bloody hell! Just let me go and put some manners on him! Five minutes with him. That's all I need." Luke pleaded.

"Right. That would be a no." Ancel sighed.

"Fuck!" Luke spat.

"Men?" the Sheriff asked as he caught up to them, completely surprising them.

"Curses!" Luke muttered.

The three of them turned around to face him.

"What exactly is going on?" he asked, as his eyebrow shot north, curiously.

"Uh… it is nothing, Milord." Mordrid said.

"All is well." Ancel muttered.

"Is that so? Then, why are you both holding him like you would escort a ruffian to the dungeon?"

"He's a bit agitated, Milord. We were guiding him toward the Dining Hall." Mordrid said.

"We thought a few victuals and perhaps a small mug of ale might be useful to him, Milord." Ancel added.

"Since when does a Knight need to be escorted by two others the way you're holding him?" Nottingham asked, his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"That's what I've been wondering!" Luke scowled, shaking his head.

"Breathe, Luke, for the love of fuck… " Mordrid whispered.

Luke exhaled sharply then looked to the floor, shaking his head.

"What's going on, Luke?" he asked.

"It is nothing, Milord. We just had a… spirited discussion. The lads thought some food and a spot of ale — "

"Sure, Luke. Spirited discussion, my left bollock! Your comrades have you in a classic restraint hold! What the hell just happened?"

"Someone made a comment that… angered me. That's all." Luke muttered.

Mordrid nudged him just then to remind him to keep his mouth shut.

"So much so you needed to be held?"

"I think they're right, Milord. A bit of food and some ale shall do the trick. I was feeling… dizzy."

"He… uh… needed a bit of assistance walking, Milord." Mordrid said.

"Well, God damn. Remind me, if I ever get like that from skipping a meal or two, that I asked to be put out of my misery by one of you — because I would be no good to anybody in a state like that!" a beat. "Tell me another story!" the Sheriff demanded.

"Everything's fine, Milord." Luke muttered, shaking his arms until his comrades let go of him.

"Are you distracted, Luke?" he asked, directly.

"No, Milord. Just feeling a bit… unsteady on my feet." Luke sighed.

"You're sure?"

"Indeed." Luke nodded.

"Right. Very well. Well, since you're all here, I'll give you your assignments for the morrow. Ancel, you'll be sent on the search mission."

"As you wish, Milord." Ancel nodded.

"Mordrid, you shall accompany myself, Gisborne, and Nichol for a visit to the butcher's fraud shop. We leave in the morning. Hold off on breaking your fast until we return." Nottingham sighed.

"Massacriar's shop, Milord?" Mordrid asked, curiously.

"The one and only."

"What's going on over there?"

"Horse meat, donkey meat, and…rancid meat." he sneered.

"Damn!" Mordrid exclaimed with a grimace.

"We're going to make it just like old times when we drop in unexpectedly. Imagine… the four of us together again, with Nichol resurrected from the dead, to give it that little extra punch. Won't that be… fun?" Nottingham grinned, deviously.

"Indeed, Milord. It's been too long." Mordrid smirked.

"I wish I could see this." Luke said.

"Really, Luke?" he asked.

"Yes, Milord." Luke nodded.

"You think you could handle it? Our visit to Fingle's was your first outing in four days." the Sheriff pointed out.

"I'm fit for it." Luke nodded.

"Hmm. I was going to put you at the portcullis with Beric, to ease you into it, and also because you're the one who completes patrols."

"I'll do my patrols before we leave, Milord." Luke nodded.

"Well, that's going to change the portcullis assignment, but… fine. You can come and guard the door of the cursed fraud shop. You think you'll be alright with that, and then a trip to Fingle's in the afternoon to pick up those longbows?" the Sheriff asked.

"Yes, Milord."

"Good. It's settled, then. Be sure to defer eating in the morning until after we return. Now, I still think you lads are holding something back from me, but, you'd better make your way to the Dining Hall. Have Jean Louis fix you up with something fortifying. I think you men are right about one thing." he said to Mordrid and Ancel. Then he looked to Luke. "You're looking a bit pale, lad."

"Yes, Milord." Luke nodded.

"What would you have us do afterward?" Mordrid asked.

"Get him to his rooms." he said, nodding to Luke. "Then, check with Gisborne, or the Captain to see if they have anything for you. If not, you're free until the morrow." the Sheriff said.

"Very well." Mordrid nodded.

Rhiannon and Meridwyn had returned to the castle. They had just come through the front entrance when Meridwyn spotted the Sheriff speaking with three of his men in the distance, his back to the ladies.

"Looks like your husband is back, Rhiannon. Did you wish to speak to him right now?"

"No. I had better not. The more I think on it, he's going to have an absolute fit seeing me returning from an outing." Rhiannon sighed.

After she finished explaining what she learned of Lady Gunilda to Meridwyn, there was time for her to think during the latter part of their ride home. She kept returning to Sunday, and his reaction to her when he discovered she left on her own to meet with the Minstrel leader. He was angry, and adamant.

"I still insist that you refrain from galavanting about until the wanted man is captured. Am I clear?" she could hear his voice sternly warning her.

She had tried to argue her point, and tell him to stop making such a fuss. He wasn't having it. Once he escorted her to the private chambers he was firm in his instruction.

"Next time you get a bright idea to leave here unaccompanied, you will clear it with me first. This is for your safety. Am I clear now?"

She sighed as she realized that he would never consider Meridwyn to be the proper accompaniment that he was referring to.

"You're going to have to face his questions later, Rhi. Once Michael delivers that painting, he's going to have questions." Meridwyn pointed out.

"True, but I can't deal with that now. Perhaps seeing the painting will soften him a little? He looks to be heavily engaged in discussion with his top three men at the moment. I wouldn't deign to interrupt that. I'm more interested to see how Isabelle is faring, frankly." Rhiannon explained as she turned to her left to step on the bottom riser of the staircase.

"Yes. Perhaps she's feeling a bit better after a rest? We never did tell her of the dressing gowns that Madam Oberon mentioned. That kind of got lost in the spirited discussion between you and Robert." Meridwyn pointed out as she ascended the stairs with her friend.

"You're right. Maybe that prospect might cheer her a little. She definitely looks like she could use a nice warm dressing gown. Who knows how many days she'll have like this one — if your guess about her condition is correct?"

"If I were a betting woman, I'd make a wager on it." Meridwyn said. She sighed. "Remember what I said. Don't press them with questions. Just listen, and observe."

"Very well. It will damn near kill me, but, I'll try." Rhiannon sighed.

"Good. Before we check on Isabelle, we best doff our capes and get rid of our drawstring bags and gloves before we run into our husbands." Meridwyn suggested.

"You read my mind, Sister." Rhiannon smirked.

The top men were seated at a small table in the Dining Hall, waiting for their hearty stew to arrive.

"That was close, Luke. You nearly blew it all to hell like Byzantine fire, though." Mordrid sighed, then took a swig of ale from his mug.

"You're far too honest sometimes, Luke. I get it. It's how you are. But, if he knew the real reason we needed to… subdue you at that time, you know what he'd say." Ancel said with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"I suppose." Luke sighed.

"There's no supposing about it, Luke. Ancel is right. He even pointedly asked you if you were distracted. And, you were. You nearly confessed the whole damn truth to him! Surely you know that if you had, he would've put a stop to you ever seeing your lady love again?" Mordrid pointed out.

"I… never considered that. I just… hate lying to him." Luke muttered as he took a swig of ale.

"Sometimes, less is more. In that case, the less you said, the better for you. He would have used that example like a weapon to remind you that you did allow her to distract you, and, you'd never hear the end of it. As well… you'd never see your Flower again." Mordrid said.

"Floria." Luke said softly, correcting him.

"You've got to keep your emotions in check when you're on duty, mate. That's the only piece of advice I have for you. If you wish to keep seeing your Floria, you must remember this." Mordrid said, firmly.

"Very well. I shall work on that. I… didn't think of these things when he surprised us."

"No, because you were filled with rage. I understand, mate. I would be enraged if someone made a comment like that about Rebeccah. But, if it were one of the Black Knights who said it, I would do what I told you I would do. It would be too great a risk — to my position, and also to… whatever you want to call is… sort of happening between Rebeccah and me." Ancel said.

"I see." Luke nodded.

"What is happening there, Ancel?" Mordrid asked, curiously.

"She's… speaking to me now, so… there's that." Ancel muttered.

A short time later, the ladies were outside the door of the Wordsworths' chambers, awaiting an answer to their knock.

After a few moments the door opened. Robert frowned when he saw who was there.

"Let me guess. You've brought the medicus with you." Robert sighed as he peaked his head out of the door to look.

"No. We just… wanted to stop by to check on Isabelle again." Rhiannon said.

"Very well. Come in." he nodded as he held the door open for them.

"Is she still resting?" Meridwyn asked after Robert closed the door.

"No. She's awake, and seems to be in better spirits."

"I'm… sorry, Brother. I shouldn't have said those things to you. Forgive me." Rhiannon said softly, then looked downcast.

"You're right. You shouldn't have; but… you're forgiven." he sighed. "It is heartwarming that you care for my wife, too. I'm glad of that. But, don't ever question my deep devotion to her. Alright? I love her to her core. You couldn't possibly understand."

"I believe I do, Brother." she smiled.

"Let me just see if she's fit for company. I'll be back directly." he said, then he walked to the bedchamber.

"That was a good start, Rhiannon. Remember: listen, and observe. Alright? Don't press them with questions." Meridwyn whispered.

"Indeed. I will follow your advice. I'm sure you'll remind me somehow if I go off course."

"I certainly will." Meridwyn smirked.

A few moments later he emerged.

"You ladies may go in." Robert said. "I'll be out here if you need me for any reason."

"Thank you, Robert." Rhiannon said.

Then, they headed into the bedchamber.

Isabelle was seated on a chair by the window with an ivory woollen shawl pulled around her as she read a book. Rhiannon noticed a small covered pot on the table beside her, and a cup set beside it. She looked up and closed the book, leaving it on her lap.

"Are you alright, Isabelle? You do have better colour than earlier." Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, Sister. I'm feeling remarkably better than I was when last I saw you both. Thank heavens! That was dreadful." Isabelle smiled, then sipped of her batwing tea.

"I'm sure. We're so glad to hear that!" Meridwyn smiled. She looked to her sister in law. "Aren't we, Rhi?"

"Indeed!"

"Is Thomas outside waiting to be called in?" Isabelle asked.

"No, Isabelle. It's just us." Rhiannon said, softly.

"Good. I've been following his advice, and it's helping thus far."

"That's encouraging. Uh… what's in that pot?" Rhiannon blurted.

Meridwyn sighed and shot her a scornful look.

"Oh, that. Yes, it's… broth. Yes." Isabelle lied. She took her cup and began to sip of it.

"I see. We uh — "

"Forgot to mention that Madam Oberon told us of some lovely hooded dressing gowns that Floria designed, and asked if we'd all be interested?" Meridwyn chimed in.

"Oh! A dressing gown with a hood, you say? If it's cozy enough I could toss this old lady shawl! I should say I'd like that. I'd be delighted!" Isabelle smiled.

Rhiannon looked at her curiously, wondering what had changed to put her in a much better mood? Earlier she was polite, yet dolorous. Yet, now, she was almost euphoric? Did Robert talk to her?

"What kind of fabric will she be using?" Isabelle asked.

"Any of your choosing, Sister." Rhiannon said.

"Marvellous! I should like a nice soft, cozy warm one. In the same colour as my gown from your wedding, dearest. Just in a softer more lightweight fabric than velvet — if there is such a thing, that will also provide warmth." Isabelle pondered.

"I'm sure betwixt the two of them, they shall know of a fabric that meets your needs." Rhiannon smiled.

"Indeed. It sounds divine. I'm looking forward to seeing mine. I'm going to ask for purple, I think." Meridwyn giggled.

"What of you, Rhiannon? Do you know what colour you'd like?" Isabelle asked.

"I'm quite fond of the one I have, but it might be nice to choose a new colour. I'm leaning towards white, lavender, or periwinkle blue this time — in no particular order. I can't decide between those colours just yet."

"Sounds divine. You'd look great in them all, but the lavender or blue would bring out your eyes, Rhi — If… uh… that's what you're going for?" Meridwyn said.

"It's mostly for warmth, as Isabelle mentioned. However, I do like those colours. The nice thing about loungewear is you can wear whatever colour you wish no matter the season." Rhiannon pointed out.

"Indeed." Isabelle smiled, as she took a sip of her batwing tea.

"You sure you're… feeling alright, Isabelle?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. And, I've been thinking. Mayhaps, some fresh air might do me some good? When we left to visit your manor on that… eventful day last week, I couldn't help but marvel at how well you handled the horses. And, you do ride, as well… correct?" Isabelle asked.

"I do." Rhiannon nodded. She quirked her brow curiously, wondering what she was driving at?

"I've been thinking, I'd like to learn how to ride a horse properly. You're right, Sister. Ladies should know a few things."

Meridwyn gave a knowing look to Rhiannon whole side eyeing Isabelle.

"You'd show me, wouldn't you, dearest?" Isabelle asked.

"Pardon?" Rhiannon asked.

"How to ride a horse, of course!" Isabelle said. She turned to Meridwyn. "You've a palfrey, don't you, Meridwyn?" Isabelle asked.

"Well… yes. I don't ride it too often, though."

"Bah! You hardly rode her at all, and I'm referring to the time when you weren't carrying a child. Honestly, Meridwyn. Do you ever even check on her?" Rhiannon sighed.

"Guy takes care of all that. He makes sure the horse is ridden, too." Meridwyn said.

"Perhaps… I could borrow… your palfrey? To… learn how to ride?" Isabelle asked.

"Seriously?" Meridwyn asked.

"Yes. I think it would be nice to learn. A lovely way to enjoy the outdoors, and the positive effects it has on one's overall state of wellness." Isabelle smiled.

Rhiannon stared at her, slowly shaking her head.

"What is troubling you, Sister?" Isabelle asked.

"I'm just… shocked. You acted like you wanted nothing to do with riding a horse in the past. Why the sudden interest now?" Rhiannon asked with a suspicious quirk of her brow.

"Because, I think it's about time I learned." Isabelle said, simply.

"I see." she muttered, still shocked by this change in her sister in law.

"What say you, Meridwyn? May I borrow your palfrey to learn how to ride?" Isabelle asked.

"Hmm… alright. I don't see why not? As long as she is agreeable to teach you, that is." Meridwyn said, nodding to her friend.

"I… suppose that would be fine. As long as you're sure you're well and able for such an endeavour, Sister?" Rhiannon asked.

"Indeed, dearest. Oh. Don't mention this to Robert, won't you? I'd like to surprise my husband. He is masterful at so many things, and I'd like to show him I am capable of learning new things, too."

"You sure?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. It would ruin his surprise, you see." Isabelle smiled, then looked to her lap.

"Alright. But, once your lessons are over, you will tell him. I can't have you taking off on a horse once you're comfortable handling one on your own. Trust me — you'll be tempted to once you master this. If something were to happen, he would worry so… and I wouldn't be able to lie to him then." Rhiannon said, firmly.

"Thank you, Rhiannon. I will, indeed. I'm most eager to begin!" Isabelle smiled.

A short time later they left the bedchamber, closing the doors behind them. Robert stood from his chair to greet them.

"Is now a good time to take the sword to your rooms, Rhiannon?"

"Right. I'd forgotten about that." Rhiannon muttered.

"She's looking better now. Isn't it marvellous to see her looking closer to hale than earlier today?" Robert asked, smiling.

"Uh… yes, Brother. It's… certainly not what I expected."

"She certainly seems rather… cheery — suddenly." Meridwyn said.

"I'm very pleased to see it! I'll get the sword and take it to your chambers, Rhiannon."

"I can do that, Robert. Mayhaps… you should stay with Isabelle?" she suggested.

"Nonsense. It's rather heavy. I'll be but a moment." Robert smiled, then turned to head into the bedchamber.

"Rhiannon… what the bloody hell did we just witness?" Meridwyn whispered.

"With child, my buttocks, Meridwyn! Who decides to learn how to ride a horse once they've learned they're carrying a much wanted child? This is so unlike her!" she exclaimed in a whisper.

"She's always preferred riding in a carriage — at least as long as we've known her." Meridwyn added.

"The mood change! It's almost frightening how she went from… dolorous to euphoric in a matter of only a few hours?" a beat. "Was I like that? You certainly haven't been!" Rhiannon pointed out in a whisper.

"No, honey. You were never like that. You're right. That's a trifle concerning, Rhi."

"A trifle? This is lunacy! She wants me to lie to my brother! What the hell is she up to?"

"One does get the impression she's got something contrived." Meridwyn huffed.

"She's up to something. I can feel it. Whatever it is, my brother has no idea. I must get to the bottom of it, Meridwyn."

"I think that's a good plan, Rhi. Something about her sudden interest in riding horses, from a woman who couldn't care less about it until now… unsettles me." Meridwyn whispered.

Just then the bedchamber doors opened and Robert emerged carrying a long wooden box.

"Here it is. Would you like to see it before we take it to your rooms?" Robert asked.

"Yes, Robert. I'd love to." she smiled.

He set the box on a table as the ladies gathered beside him. He lifted the lid. The gleam of the steel catching the light from torches and candles burning in the chamber assaulted their eyes as it shone brightly, perfectly polished against the black velvet it was resting in.

"Oh, my!" Meridwyn exclaimed.

"Robert, it's beautiful. Just perfect! Is that the Nottingham family crest on the pommel? How did you do that? It's so small yet finely detailed." Rhiannon asked, still gazing upon the finely forged sword.

"Very carefully." he smiled.

"I think he'll be most pleased. Thank you, Brother." she smiled.

"We'd better get this to your rooms before he decides to come upstairs for some reason." Robert advised.

"Very well. I think that's a good plan." Rhiannon agreed.

A short time later she was holding the door open at the private chambers for him. Robert and Meridwyn followed her inside.

"Where would you like this, Rhiannon?" he asked.

"This might sound strange, but could you… tuck it under the bed in the bedchamber?"

"Of course." Robert nodded as he headed there.

He returned within moments.

"It is done." Robert smiled.

"Thank you, Robert." she nodded.

"You were quiet on our walk back here. Is… something troubling you, Rhiannon?"

Meridwyn sighed.

"Well… a little, I suppose." she muttered.

Robert regarded her, questioningly.

"Are you… not the least bit concerned about… your wife?" she asked, tentatively.

"I'm always concerned about my wife, Rhiannon. I thought we cleared this up?" Robert frowned.

"No. I mean… do you not find her mood today rather mercurial? She was a mess earlier. Quite unwell and… sombre. But, now — "

"Isn't it grand to see her so cheerful and content? She looks so much better, too!" Robert smiled.

"Of course, Brother; but, she's almost… too cheerful. Even for her." Rhiannon said, softly.

"I would concur." Meridwyn added.

"So… it bothered you to see her ill earlier, and now, it bothers you to see her content and… almost hale?" Robert sighed. "Have I got that right?"

"Of course, I'm always happy to see her content, and hale. This is different, Robert. It's a major change in a very short span of time. It was almost as if she were drunk, but I can tell she isn't. Do you not find that a wee bit curious, Brother?" Rhiannon asked.

She wished she could tell him everything, but she promised Isabelle she wouldn't. If he knew what his wife asked of she, and Meridwyn, he would definitely raise an eyebrow over it, and then he'd put his foot down. She sighed and looked downcast.

"I'm just happy the nausea and retching stopped. That was dreadful to witness. By the time I got back from my meeting in town she was a brand new woman. I was quite relieved, so I never thought more about it." Robert shrugged.

"When did you return?"

"Not long ago. Less than an hour. Why?"

"Because that is a very short time for such a drastic mood change." Rhiannon pointed out.

"I'm pleased she's feeling better. I'll keep an eye on her, but I'm not complaining if she stays like this." Robert said.

"Of course, Brother."

"I think that rest helped her. She needs to do more of that. Lots of… rest will… get her through this time." he muttered.

Meridwyn shot a knowing look to Rhiannon.

Rhiannon noticed, then looked once more to her brother.

"Because of whatever has caused her malaise?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes. Right. Of course." Robert muttered. He cleared his throat. "I shall leave you ladies now. Now that I've checked in on Isabelle, I should head to the armoury and see how things are faring down there."

"Of course. Thank you, Brother." Rhiannon said as she threw her arms around him in an embrace.

"You're welcome, Sis. What was… that for?"

"Because, I'm happy you have forgiven me, and very pleased about the beautiful sword for George." Rhiannon smiled.

"I'm glad you like it." he smiled, then he took leave of them.

Rhiannon began to pace in the den after Robert left them.

"You're starting to remind me of my brother in law just now." Meridwyn remarked.

"It helps with… thinking." Rhiannon said.

"Did you hear him just now? The comment about how lots of rest will get her through this time? That was rather telling, don't you think?" Meridwyn pointed out, then she took a seat on one of the chairs.

"Oh, I noticed, alright. Even before the look you gave me confirming you found that rather strange, too."

"If it's only a passing malaise, how much time would she need to keep resting? Usually, once one feels better their rest returns to normal. He said, "lots of rest". Curious. Agreed?"

"Yes. Very curious. The only women I know who require lots of rest are either carrying a child, or very ill, or dying." Rhiannon sighed.

"What do you think, Rhiannon?" Meridwyn asked.

"I don't think she's dying. Wouldn't there have been tell tale signs of that? Besides, my brother was in such good spirits about the positive change in her, he was gleeful. I bet he was nearly dancing down the corridor when he left us. He wouldn't be gleeful if she were dying. He'd be inconsolable." Rhiannon said, confidently. She continued to pace.

"So, that narrows it down to two options. Uh… do you think you could sit down a moment? You're starting to make me diz — "

"She is either in the recovery phase of an illness, or… with child. I'm thinking it must be the first of those choices. It has to be! She wants to have a baby. She's told me that. The Isabelle I know would not risk her pregnancy by choosing to learn to ride a horse right at this moment. For someone like her with no experience with such, it's too great a risk to her." Rhiannon said.

"Great! Then, why are you pacing still?"

Rhiannon stopped in her tracks and turned to face her friend.

"This whole thing about her wanting to learn to ride. It's troubling. She's asking us both to lie. She wants me to lie to my brother, and she pretty much expects you to lie to Sir Guy! Do you think he'd be agreeable to this?"

"I don't think he'd have a problem with it. I was planning to discuss it with him over the evening meal. I mean, I'm sure you'd be teaching her on the property, correct? It's the only way George would be agreeable, don't you think?" Meridwyn asked.

"True. He'd be fine with it as long as I don't take off, as he has phrased it in the past."

"It's a palfrey, too. It's easy to ride. I mean… what could go wrong?" Meridwyn shrugged.

"She could fall off the horse. She's never ridden a horse, Meridwyn. I've no idea how she made it this far in life not knowing such a skill, but, here we are. People often fall when they're only just learning. Silly woman! She only recently sprained her ankle." Rhiannon sighed, shaking her head.

"She seems quite enthusiastic about it, though — oddly." Meridwyn added.

"Indeed."

"What are we going to do?"

"That depends on your husband. If Sir Guy is agreeable to this arrangement, then, I guess I'm teaching her how to ride. Perhaps she'll forget about it, though?" she mused.

"One can only hope." Meridwyn sighed.

"There's one more consideration." Rhiannon hinted.

"What's that?"

"Well, you plan to talk with Sir Guy about this, and, I will need to tell George — "

"And, I'm sure they will both agree to it, Rhi." Meridwyn pointed out.

"Yes, I think they will, too. But, there's going to be one more added problem."

"What is that?" Meridwyn asked.

"They shall be expected to lie to Robert, too! Imagine that — you and I asking their permission to concede to this fanciful whim of hers, and then when they agree, we must add: 'Oh, by the way — you mustn't mention this to Robert.' They're going to be suspicious as soon as we explain that point. And, they would be right to be suspicious, because God knows I certainly am!" Rhiannon huffed.

"All we can do is try. She seemed quite insistent on this — for some peculiar reason."

"Curses! I'm in for quite a time in these chambers tonight, Sister. Firstly, I'll need to smooth things over when I present him with his painting. I know him! He's going to immediately launch into a lecture about going to the market with only you as my accompaniment. Even though I know he will love the painting, that lecture will be coming. And then, I will have to tell him about this! She made a point of telling us she is eager to begin. I don't think she'd like it if I tell her I had to wait to inform George. And, there's no getting around informing him of this. He would want to know, and he deserves to know." Rhiannon frowned.

"Damn! Good luck with that, honey. How will you manage that?" Meridwyn asked.

"There's only one way I can think of. I'll need to keep his brandy topped up." Rhiannon sighed.

Nichol was back on the main floor, after putting the new crossbow in a safe place in his quarters. He thought a short walk around the courtyard might do him some good. He liked to stay as mobile as possible. Today there was no pain, so it was a perfect time to get moving, in his opinion.

Just as he was several steps away from approaching the main doors, Gisborne caught up to him.

"Where are you off to, Nic? Is there more business to attend to in town?" Guy asked.

"Oh! There you are! No, I was only going to take a walk. It's good for me to keep moving, even though I don't move as fast as I used to."

"I see. Makes sense. How did it go at Fingle's shop?"

"That was… certainly interesting." Nichol muttered. He cleared his throat and continued. "I've one new crossbow in my rooms. Fingle is going to start on making replacement longbows for Ancel and Luke, then he shall start crafting three more crossbows. Luke will be picking up the longbows tomorrow afternoon." Nichol said.

"Very good! So, it sounds like it went quite well, then?"

"Yes. He even took us out back and all of us were shown the basics of how to use one. Everyone used it to fire bolts at a target he had set up back there."

"Bolts?" Guy asked.

"Yes. Similar to arrows used with longbows, but they're a little different, and have a different name attached to them." Nichol explained.

"Interesting."

"Yes, I think so. George wants to acquire more of them after the initial order is completed."

"Hmm. I didn't know that. Sounds like training will be in order." Guy remarked with a knowing quirk of his brow.

"Indeed. That will be me taking care of that. I've accepted the two positions he offered, Gis." Nichol announced.

"Good news, indeed, Nic! How nice to have you back where you belong." Guy smiled.

"Yes, it's certainly different to what I ever expected after that cursed near mortal injury." Nichol added. "So, tomorrow, I'm set to accompany you on the surprise visit to the butcher shop. Did he talk to you about that?"

"Yes. I just saw him a short while ago. He reminded me to hold off on breaking my fast. Glad he mentioned it. I'm wondering if I should tie something around my face to cover my nose and mouth?" Guy muttered with a grimace.

"Whom will be joining us? Do you know? He mentioned he wanted one of the men to join the three of us."

"Mordrid and Luke. Won't that be entertaining? The four of us working together again — even though it shall be brief, Im sure. Luke is going to man the door. Lucky bloke. He'll be farther away from the malodorous meat than we will be." Guy sighed.

"Indeed, Gis. It will be great to be back together again. I've only one question."

"What is that?" Guy asked.

"Will… Luke be fit for this?" Nichol asked.

"I'm sure he will. George wouldn't have asked him to join us otherwise. You were with him at Fingle's shop. Was he not well at that time?"

"He was fine. Full of clever questions, and eager to learn. That's… not the problem." Nichol hinted.

"Then, what are you referring to?"

"George and I met with Robert when we returned. When we emerged from the Council Quarters, the top men were walking past us." Nichol began.

"Alright?"

"Mordrid and Ancel were escorting him using a classic restraint hold, Gis. I've no idea what that was about, but, how often are the Black Knights expected to hold one of their comrades in such a peculiar fashion? Isn't that… a bit odd?"

"That is very odd, indeed. Did he see that?"

"He did. We parted ways at that moment. He was headed over to talk to them." Nichol said.

"That sounds a bit suspicious, frankly. I'd certainly like to know what that was about."

"Indeed. Perhaps it was explained to George. I'm sure he raised a few questions about that, because it caught his attention immediately. I only mentioned it because I wondered if you'd noticed anything similarly strange with the men."

"Nothing like that. Although, the incident on Saturday night was quite… unusual. And… surprising." Guy frowned.

"Are you at liberty to expound on that?"

"Well, that depends on how much you've been told about… what was ailing Luke."

"George briefly mentioned that Luke took a poison. He didn't go into detail. I think the only reason he mentioned it was because I kept asking if Luke had anything we could catch, and also because of my own… personal experience in that regard." Nichol sighed, then looked downcast.

"Let's just say that Luke was quite disruptive, and behaving very out of character for him. It was quite the calamity around here that night." Guy sighed.

"You don't think he's taking it again, do you? They had him in a restraint hold, Gis!" Nichol exclaimed in a whisper.

"No, Nic. It's impossible. The plant was destroyed that night and it's not easy to come by in the least. As far as I know, the plant came from Spain."

"What? How?"

"The steel delivery man from Spain brought it to Luke as a gift. They were friendly at the portcullis every time Diego made a delivery." Guy explained.

"I sort of remember him. Hmm… Florez, isn't it? He was quite chatty."

"Yes. That's him."

"Luke seems quite affable, too."

"Indeed. I can easily imagine them getting along, and how that cursed plant ended up here." Guy nodded.

"I guess all we can do is keep an eye on them. Do you think we should alert the Captain?"

"It couldn't hurt. Just tell the Duke what you observed. Since I wasn't there, he should be told by you, or George."

"Hmm. Perhaps, I should run this by George first? I'll mention it to him on the morrow when we're riding into town." Nichol said.

"Good idea. Since it involves Luke, we should give him the option to fill in the Duke on whatever the hell that was you observed earlier. Perhaps, he can explain it to us? There must have been some explanation for it, or he wouldn't have agreed to have Luke join us." Guy pointed out.

"You're right. I must stop trying to think like a Captain. It was the Captain in me that was questioning that. But, that's not me anymore." Nichol sighed.

A hush had settled over the castle at dusk. The Sheriff was coming out of his office, having just obtained another of his gifts for his lady from the vault. He had the scroll tucked into his doublet pocket, as he began to walk toward the staircase. He would present this to her after they dined together. He couldn't help but wonder when the other half of this gift, which still remained in the vault, would be next presented?

He sighed while pondering that as he mounted the stairs. When would he tell her? Robert had offered to help him tell the story, but now, Robert had his own problems. Yet another thing the Sheriff had to keep secret from his lady! The boy was able to pull himself up to stand now. How long would it be before he could walk? Rhiannon was going to need to be informed soon. The only question was… when?

Gisborne found his wife waiting for him, relaxed on the sofa in their den, sipping mulberry juice. She put her knitting down beside her and stood to greet him as he returned to her.

"My lady." he smiled as he embraced her and kissed her cheek. "Still working on our wee girl's bonnet?"

"I am, my love. Come and sit. You look fatigued, Guy."

"I will. Let me just grab some wine first." he said as he went to the decanter on the table by the fireplace. He poured a measure in a goblet, took it with him, then joined her on the sofa.

"Hungry, my love?" she asked.

"Yes, my dear. Shall I send for the evening meal?"

"No. It's already taken care of." Meridwyn smiled.

"Well, aren't you thoughtful?" he smiled.

"Can't have my man starving." she smirked.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh! That must be the food now. You relax, husband. I'll have them bring it in." Meridwyn smiled as she stood.

She went to answer the door, as Guy watched her, curiously. Why was she was so eager to please him? What was she cooking up in her head, he wondered?

They sat together, enjoying their roast chicken, with various vegetables, and whipped potatoes. He sipped his wine as she drank of her mulberry juice.

"This is grand, Meridwyn. I didn't even realize I was hungry until you asked me. This fare is perfect." he smiled as he took a bite of chicken, savouring the flavours.

"I can't tell which I like better. The chicken, or the potatoes?" she grinned.

"Definitely the chicken, dearest."

"Indeed." Meridwyn nodded. She swallowed then took a sip of her juice before continuing. "Uhm… Guy?"

"Yes, dearest. What is it?" he asked, curiously. For, his wife appeared as if she were troubled by something… suddenly.

"You know that palfrey you gave me?"

"Uh… yes?" he asked as his steel blue eyes narrowed, suspiciously.

"Do you think it — "

"She."

"What?"

"It's not an it. It's a she, Meridwyn. What of the palfrey?" Guy asked, curiously.

"Would… she be… agreeable to a different… rider, do you think? For a short time, I mean? Days, I imagine." Meridwyn stammered.

"Wait. What?"

"I just think… she would be well suited to one who is… learning to ride a horse. She's so gentle and easy, my sweet! Wouldn't you agree, my darling, handsome husband?"

"Meridwyn. What in the hell are you up to?" he asked with a suspicious quirk of his brow.

"Someone I know dearly wants to learn how to ride, my love. They, uh… asked if they could… borrow our palfrey." she said. Then her speech quickened as she continued, nervously. "Would that be alright with you, lover? I'm sure it would only be a few sessions over the course of… say, two or three days, or something?"

"Are you… feeling alright, dearest?" he asked. He set his goblet down, then reached across to put his palm on her forehead.

"The hell are you doing, Guy?"

"Trying to figure out which is troubling you, wife. A sudden malaise, or, have you suddenly taken leave of your senses?" Guy sighed.

"Neither, Guy. The question is real. Someone has asked to learn to ride on our palfrey." Meridwyn explained.

"Seriously? This is not a jape? Alright. I'll play. Whom, Meridwyn?" Guy asked, pointedly.

Meridwyn exhaled sharply.

"Whom?" he repeated.

"Isabelle."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Guy. She asked me this earlier in the afternoon."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure she'd be gentle with her. The horse would probably enjoy the added exercise, I'm sure." he mused.

"Indeed, Guy." she smiled.

"Whom shall be teaching her to ride, Meridwyn? Surely not… you? Because that is out of the question right now, dearest. You mustn't ride just now." he said, firmly.

"No. It would be Rhiannon." she said.

"Really?"

"Yes, my love. You know, she's a good equestrian. She knows what to do, and how to handle a horse. I can be there while it's happening since it's our horse Isabelle shall be learning on." Meridwyn suggested.

"I see. Well, you're certainly covering every angle, aren't you?" he chucked. He grabbed his goblet again and took a generous swig before continuing. "Just one question, my love."

"What is that, Guy?" Meridwyn asked.

"Does Robert know about this?" Guy asked.

"No. Isabelle wants to surprise him with this as soon as her lessons with Rhiannon are completed."

"Hmm. I wonder what he'd think of this? He's quite protective of her. I think he'd worry for her."

"That's probably why she doesn't want to tell him just now. She wishes to learn, and surprise him with this new skill. She wouldn't wish to worry him, I'm sure." Meridwyn opined.

"And, what does George think of this fanciful request, since it involves his new bride?" Guy asked, his eyebrow raised in a knowing glance.

"We shall find out. Rhiannon is telling him… right around now." Meridwyn said.

"That ought to go over… like a ball of fire." he chuckled.

"We shall see. So, if he agrees to this bizarre wee arrangement, what say you about the use of our palfrey?" Meridwyn asked.

"If he's fine with it, I will agree to it." Guy nodded.

"Marvellous. Isabelle will be most happy if this works out. Now, are you almost finished with the main course, my sweet?"

"Yes. I am finished. Why?"

"Because I'm interested in dessert now. I'd like to suckle on something sweet, but, I'm not referring to anything on that dessert tray, Guy. Let me thank you — properly." Meridwyn smirked, salaciously.

Guy finished what was left in his goblet. Then he set it on the table, stood and grabbed her hand.

"Do what you wish, my lady. And then, I shall ravish you." he grinned as he led her into the bedchamber.

The Sheriff arrived to the private chambers. There were more than the usual number of candles burning in the den, he observed. Rhiannon stood from the sofa and walked toward him to greet him.

"Good evening, husband." she smiled.

"My Lady Nottingham." he smiled back as he grasped her hand and pulled her to him.

"You haven't called me that in awhile." she said.

"I suppose not. And, now it has even more meaning, since you officially are the Lady Nottingham. About bloody time, too." he smirked.

"Indeed, my love."

"What's with all of the candles?"

"It gives the room that little extra glow, sugar. Don't you think?" Rhiannon smiled.

"Hmm. Yes. I suppose."

"I've sent for trays, George. Now, why don't you sit and relax and I'll bring you a nice, relaxing goblet of brandy?"

"Seriously? What are you? My servant, all of a sudden?" he chuckled.

"Would it be considered 'all of a sudden' when it was only a few days ago I was acting as such?" she asked.

"Hmm. You do have a point, my lady. I don't like the idea of you waiting on me, though."

"For God's sake, George. You just finished a long day. Let me take care of you." she smiled.

"Very well." he sighed. "Make sure to pour yourself a measure of that, too." Looks like you need it. He thought, with a slow shake of his head.

As she poured the brandy, Rhiannon pondered about when she should present him with his gifts. One of them was going to prompt a few questions, and most likely a lecture. She also wondered when she should tell him that her sister in law asked her to teach her to ride. The more she gave thought to this since Meridwyn left her earlier, the more she realized that he might put his foot down about it. He had commented more than once about the nasty bruising and scrapes on the left side of her body. Even though she was kept bandaged, he mentioned a few times how jarring it was for him to see right before Thomas treated her. He was also quite concerned there was yet another broken rib that needed to heal. She shook her head and sighed as she set the brandy decanter back down. There was no getting around any of this. She was about to have quite a time with him.

"Rhiannon?" he asked curiously, from across the room.

"Yes." she absently replied, her back to him still as she picked up the goblets.

"Are you alright, my lady? You're taking forever. Do you need your opium?" Nottingham asked.

"No, my sweet. I'm good." she said as she turned to face him. Then she took the brandy to him.

He accepted the brandy from her and took a sip as he looked up at her, curiously. She was distracted for some reason. He wondered what was on her mind, when there was a knock at the door.

He set the goblet down on the table, preparing to answer the knock.

"No, George. I got it! You just relax." Rhiannon said.

"What on earth, Rhiannon? Why are you as jumpy as a June bride?" the Sheriff asked, suspiciously.

But, she was already at the door. She held the door open as servants brought the meal trays into the den.

"I don't know what Jean Louis sent us tonight, my angel, but, it smells tantalizing." he commented after the servants left.

"Doesn't it? Oh! How silly of me. You must need a top up of your brandy by now. Let me take care of that for you!" Rhiannon said a little too quickly as she reached for the goblet in his hand.

The Sheriff pulled his hand back, away from her, regarding her with his eyes narrowed.

"Rhiannon? You only just gave me this goblet. I don't drink that fast. For the love of Zeus! Would you seat yourself? You're making me dizzy." he sighed.

"I will. Let me just bring the plates over." she said. She went to fetch them before he could even open his mouth to reply.

Finally, she was seated in a chair across from him. They were just finishing their meal of roasted pheasant with a variety of vegetables. She was quiet through most of their meal, yet distracted and a little jumpy. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on with her.

"That was good, my lady." he said as he placed the napkin on the table beside his plate. He was just reaching for his goblet when he saw her hand coming toward it. She snatched it before he could grab it, and stood.

"What in the devil are you doing?" he asked.

"Topping up your brandy. Then, it's time for your gifts." Rhiannon said.

"Alright?" he shrugged as he regarded her with a curious raised eyebrow.

She topped up the brandy and brought it to him. Once again, before he could thank her for it she was heading into the bedchamber.

"For the love of Zeus! Where are you going now? Can you not just sit for a few moments?" he asked.

"I will in a moment. I need to get your gifts." she said as she opened the bedchamber doors.

She was occupied for the longest time, it seemed to him. He couldn't imagine what she was doing, or why she was acting so strange. He sighed and took a few sips of his brandy.

Rhiannon emerged carrying a large wooden box.

"I'll have to go back afterward to retrieve the other gift." she said as she brought it to him.

"What the?" he started to say. "That looks heavy, Rhiannon." he sighed. He set the goblet down, stood and walked toward her to take the box from her.

"Let me move the plates off the table, George. We can set the box down there." she said. Then, she began to clear the table.

"You shouldn't have been lifting this box, Rhiannon. You're supposed to be healing." he reminded her. He set the box on the table after the dishes were cleared.

"It was only for a few brief moments. I will be fine." she said.

They both seated themselves again. She encouraged him to proceed. He lifted the lid, and was immediately stunned.

"This is amazing." he said softly, as he lifted the sword from the box. He quickly appraised it before he stood and moved to the centre of the room, testing the feel of the sword in his hand. "This is very finely forged. Robert did this?"

"I think he said it was a team effort. He did most of it, and the other two who assist him had a hand in it, too." she smiled.

"Stephanus and Eustace. Yes. I like it, my angel. It's perfect. Who was the one who added the Nottingham family crest on the pommel? That's what has me mystified."

"That was Robert. I asked how he achieved that, too. He just said, "carefully." Did he get it right, sugar?"

"He certainly did. It's remarkable. I'll keep my usual sword as backup and use this one from now on. Thank you, my angel. I shall thank Robert and the other two, as well." the Sheriff smiled.

"Great!l"

"I've something for you, my lady. It's… not as spectacular as the other tokens I gave to — "

"Tokens? You completely spoiled me! No, George. Let's finish up with your gifts first, aright?" she asked. Please, George? So I can get this over with?

"Very well. If you insist. It better not be something heavy. You should be conserving your strength, my — "

"It's large, but not heavy. Just a wee bit awkward." Rhiannon said.

She stood from her chair and headed back into the bedchamber.

Within moments she emerged carrying something quite large that was covered in a sheet. It was so large he could barely see her.

"Rhiannon! What in the devil?" he asked as he stood from his chair. He moved swiftly toward her to take it from her.

"Thank you." she said as he took it off her hands. "I'll fetch you some more brandy." she muttered as she turned to make her way to the table where the brandy decanter was located.

He set the object on the floor, leaning it against a chair, then quickly grabbed her hand.

"Would you just sit down, for the love of Zeus, Rhiannon? I have plenty of brandy. Are you trying to get me drunk?" the Sheriff asked, suspiciously.

"Well… no. I just thought you might be ready for more." she muttered.

"Be seated, Rhiannon. Right this instant! I insist."

"Very well." Rhiannon sighed, then followed his directive.

He picked up the object off the floor and brought it with him as he resumed sitting in his chair. Rhiannon nodded for him to go ahead and remove the sheet from it. He quickly removed it, and slowly his eyes widened as the painting was revealed. It was a painting of Nottingham Castle at twilight, as the last streaks of a sunset were disappearing on the horizon.

"Rhiannon! This is… so realistic looking. Where did you obtain this?"

"From the local artist, Michael." she smiled.

"I should have guessed. He's quite talented."

"Indeed. As soon as I saw it, I knew this was what I needed to gift to you."

"I'm very pleased with it. I can't decide where to put it just yet, but, I am very impressed." a beat. "So, how did you acquire this?" the Sheriff asked.

"Michael delivered it, of course." she said, while taking a sip of her brandy.

"I assumed as much. However, how did you see this in the first place?" he asked again, as his eyebrow raised, curiously.

"I… uh… saw it at the market. More brandy?"

"No more brandy, for the love of Zeus, wife! What do you mean you saw it at the market? When were you at the market?"

"Well, earlier today. Meridwyn was with me."

"What?"

"Of course! We were inside the city walls, in broad daylight. It was fine, Geor — "

"Didn't we just have this discussion three days ago? You know full well that Meridwyn is not whom I referred to regarding accompaniment. Am I not speaking plainly enough to you? What part of what I said to you on Sunday — and any other day — was not clear to you?"

Rhiannon exhaled sharply and looked to her lap.

"Rhiannon." he said, firmly.

"For crying out loud, George. I didn't think it would be a… problem. Who would be fool enough to attack us among so many witnesses during the market within the city walls?"

"You'd be surprised. I told you of the one who is after you. He is still a concern. He is still a fugitive."

"I didn't think you'd mind my going to the market with Meridwyn." she sighed.

"Well, now you know. I will say it again: this is for your safety. You must heed my warnings, Rhiannon! This is a fine painting, I do agree. However, I do hope I've been clear enough with you now."

"Yes. As clear as a cloudless sky. Forgive me. I will heed your advice."

"Truthfully? Or, was that just said to shut me up about it?" Nottingham sighed.

"No. I promise I will heed your warnings. I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"Very well. I'm not completely disappointed, because you chose a perfect painting." he smiled.

"Good! Now, how about dessert? It looks like Jean Louis sent custard tarts, lemon squares… there's also fruit." Rhiannon announced.

"What? My lady, there's been enough food around here the last few days to last us a fortnight. I'm sated, my lady. I don't need any more food. Are you trying to make me stout now? What in the devil has come over you? Why are you still acting strange?" he asked as his eyebrow shot north.

"I… uh… need to talk to you about something else." she sighed.

"Alright. Let's hear it. What is on your mind, Rhiannon?"

"Someone I know wants me to… teach them to… ride a horse, George."

"What? You can't be serious?" he asked, astonished at her words.

"Yes. We would be staying on the property while it's done, of course." she added.

"I don't give a flying fig if you plan to ride your horses through the main floor of the castle! This is preposterous, Rhiannon! Have you forgotten about the injuries you've sustained, and that you're supposed to be recovering from them?" he asked pointedly, his voiced raised a decibel or two.

"Curses!" Rhiannon muttered.

"What's that? Explain this to me, wife. Who in the bleeding hell had the absolute audacity to request such a thing of you during this particular time? I'd like to have a word with them!" he exclaimed.

"For crying out loud, George! They would be learning. It's not like there will be galloping and fence jumping happening!" she argued.

"Rhiannon. Who the bloody hell had the gall to ask this of you? It's obviously someone who isn't privy to the state of your health!" a beat. "Was it Floria?" the Sheriff asked.

"What? No, it wasn't Floria." Rhiannon sighed.

"Lady Arianna's daughter?"

"No!"

"Tell me right now. Who the hell asked you to do this?" he demanded.

Rhiannon sighed and looked downcast.

"I'm waiting, Rhiannon. Whom is the selfish fool who made such a req — "

"It was… Isabelle." she said, softly.

"WHAT?"

"She… really wants to learn, George." she added.

The Sheriff sat quietly for a moment mulling this over, his mind filled with so many questions. As far as he knew, he was the only other person besides Robert and the medicus who knew of Isabelle's condition. It was obvious to him that Rhiannon had no idea. If she had been told, he was confident she'd never entertain such a foolish notion.

Finally, he spoke.

"He doesn't know, does he?"

"You mean, Robert? No. She wishes to surprise him."

"Oh, I bet!" he sneered. He stood from his chair and walked to the window, holding his goblet.

"George? What did you mean by that?"

"It is nothing. I'm just, frankly, quite astonished." he muttered, still gazing out of the window.

"I see." she sighed.

Rhiannon was certain that he would be fine with this after only a tiny bit of coaxing. She was expecting more of a problem from him about her visit to the market. She was so surprised about his reaction, everything she planned to say about this matter had all been lost.

Nottingham took a generous swill of the brandy, then looked over at her, curiously.

"When was she planning to tell him about this?" he asked.

"Once her lessons were completed. I insisted upon that point, George. The lessons would probably only take a few sessions. He would know about it by Saturday, at the very most. Although, I do hope it's over with before then. Meridwyn and I have an appointment on Fri — " she stopped herself and covered her mouth, looking down to her lap.

"Wait. What? An appointment… with whom?" he asked, pointedly.

"We wouldn't be long." she replied, evading the question.

"What is happening on Friday, Rhiannon?" he asked, more firmly this time.

"Well… Lady Gunilda invited us over for tea and biscuits, or some such thing. Friday afternoon. We bumped into her at the market." she said, hurriedly.

"Satan's teeth! And, you were just going to ride on over there without mentioning this, weren't you?" he shook his head and put his palm to his forehead.

"Of course, I was going to mention it. I didn't mean to mention it tonight, however, because we're still discussing Isabelle's request." Rhiannon explained.

"Are we?"

"Well, yes. I thought we were?" she shrugged.

"Right. Well, that's a no regarding Isabelle's request — for a couple of very good reasons; so, thus ends that discussion." he sighed. And, one reason you don't know about. "As for your afternoon planned with Gunilda, as long as someone suitable accompanies you both, then I will concede to it." the Sheriff said, firmly.

"What? You're not serious?" Rhiannon exclaimed as she stood from her chair and took a few steps toward him.

"About which of those, wife?"

"Both!"

"You know my reasons for both, Rhiannon. Surely, I've been clear about that?"

"Isabelle will be disappointed. She is very eager to learn, and surprise Robert. As far as Lady Gunilda goes, that shall be shameful, turning up at her manor with a guard with us. She shall think we are being guarded against her."

"She is well aware of the escaped prisoner we are looking for. She won't think anything of it. You and my sister in law shall be granted protection. Zeus knows where the cursed malefactor is hiding out!"

"It's also embarrassing because Gunilda can come and go as she pleases. I'm going to feel like a right fool showing up with a guard." Rhiannon huffed, while folding her arms.

"Rhiannon, as far as everyone knows, Lady Gunilda is not the target of a maniacal man's murderous plot. She will understand." he said.

"Very well." Rhiannon sighed. She wished they would find the outlaw soon because she was tired of having to be minded.

"Good." he nodded.

"I don't know how I shall tell Isabelle of this?" Rhiannon muttered.

"And, I don't know how she had a mind to ask this of you? How could she possibly forget that you're injured and trying to heal? And, how did she expect you to keep this from Robert? The hell is wrong with her? Has she gone daft?" Nottingham asked. He sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, she was acting queerly today, come to think of it." Rhiannon hinted.

"What do you mean?" he asked as he walked slowly toward her.

"Meridwyn and I stopped by in the early afternoon. She looked deathly. She was pale, feeling dizzy and nauseous, and had a cold wet cloth on her head. She was polite, yet, distant and sombre." a beat. "It appeared she was truly miserable, in more ways than one." Rhiannon began.

"I see. That sounds… concerning." he frowned.

"But, that was only how it started. When we returned from the market, we visited again. I was worried about her, and I… needed to apologize to my brother."

The Sheriff regarded her with a curious quirk of his brow at that last comment.

"She was completely different then, George! She was ridiculously euphoric, speaking very quickly — and with far too much enthusiasm, if you ask me. She was the exact opposite in demeanour in only a few short hours. I've never… seen anyone behave in such a manner." Rhiannon said as she looked up into his eyes.

"That does sound a little off. I'm guessing that is when she asked you about the riding lessons, correct?"

"Yes. And, when she asked Meridwyn if she could borrow the palfrey Sir Guy gave to her, for use during the lessons." Rhiannon nodded.

"You're… serious?" Nottingham asked as his eyebrow shot north.

"Yes, my sweet. I am. Dead serious. I… don't know how to tell her this. I don't wish to disappoint her, yet, at the same time, I didn't like that I was expected to hide this from my brother. I put my foot down about that and told her he would be informed the moment the lessons were complete — only because she is set on surprising him with this, for some strange reason."

The Sheriff moved in closer and gently placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"Rhiannon, you… do understand why I'm not agreeing to you teaching her at this time, don't you?"

"Yes. You stated your reasons."

"It's too soon, my lady. My greatest concern is for you. However, I can't deny it would be a risk to her right now, too, since… she's acting rather unwell; and, it seems suspicious she prefers to keep Robert in the dark about it. Too many things don't add up." he explained.

"Yes. I noticed that, too. I… basically agreed to it — pending your approval, of course — so that I could keep an eye on her. She's acting very strange, and Robert seems clueless. I tried to warn him that she's not right, but, I'm not sure he heard me." she sighed.

"I see." he said softly, pondering over what she'd just told him.

The Sheriff decided to think more on how to handle this matter. Maybe he could come to an agreement with Rhiannon about this? Isabelle was acting very strange from what he witnessed in the morning, and he couldn't help but feel a degree of sympathy for Robert.

"I didn't mean to displease you on only our second night since we married." she said, softly.

"It's fine. You didn't. I don't want to quarrel for the same reason. Now, as for the guard situation on Friday. What if I send Luke?"

"Is he fit for it, George?"

"Yes. He'd be a good choice because you and Meridwyn know him, he can be trusted, and Gunilda has met with him, too."

"That certainly… makes me feel more at ease about it."

"Good. Then, it shall be done." he said as he embraced her.

"Wouldn't that be… a waste of his talents, though? He's one of your top men?" Rhiannon asked, looking up into his eyes.

"It's only going to be for a brief time. Three women gathered alone in a cottage would be like waving an invitation to that escaped prisoner should he happen to cross paths with you. Luke can well handle the cursed bloke." the Sheriff added with a derisive grin.

"Hmm. I suppose, you're right about that. Very well." she said, softly.

"Come, my angel. Let us sit and enjoy the brandy. Perhaps you can be more at ease now that you've told me everything?" he said.

"Yes. I do believe I will be." she nodded.

They resumed their positions on the chairs and sipped of their brandy while they spoke of other more mundane things, when Rhiannon remembered something.

"You said you had something for me, George. I think you forgot about that." she said.

"Oh, right. That. I'm not sure if now is such a good time, my lady. Right now, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to toss it into the fire." the Sheriff frowned.

"What? I'm sure I wouldn't do such a thing with anything you would give to me."

"Perhaps now isn't the best time." he parried.

"For heaven's sake. You're being silly now, George. Come. Let me see what it is." she goaded him.

"Very well. Just know that now I feel strange giving it to you. Especially since… we almost quarreled."

"I'm not angry with you, George. I understand everything you explained to me. I'm more annoyed by circumstances than anything. What is it you have for me?" she asked, curiously.

The Sheriff sighed as he reached into his doublet pocket and produced a scroll. He passed it to her and took a sip of his brandy.

"Open it, my lady." he said.

Rhiannon unfurled the scroll and let out a soft gasp.

"Oh, George! I love it! Now, I'll be able to look upon your face when you're away from me. I shall treasure this, my sweet." Rhiannon smiled.

"That was the idea, my lady. You were impressed with the sketch that was done of Robert. It was my Knight, Richard, who sketched the portraits of Robert and Isabelle at that time. The Captain sent them in a missive to me from the north. It was then I had them reproduced by Michael and his assistant." he explained.

"Oh, my! One of your Knights is an artist, too? How remarkable! I don't believe I've met this Richard fellow? So, he must have met Robert and Isabelle, then?"

"No. He actually didn't meet them. The Captain and Mordrid did. Once. Richard often draws up maps for us. Duke Farnsworth got the idea to have Richard sketch them, based on the Captain's description of them."

"You must be jesting!" she exclaimed, incredulously.

"No, my dear. I'm not."

"What a talented fellow he is! I'd like to meet him sometime. His sketch of my brother brought me so much comfort — once I got over being haunted by seeing it nailed to a tree. That's why I kept it. So I could look at it and remember him." Rhiannon explained.

"Yes, my dear. Once I found out who he was to you, I understood why it was so important to you."

"Do you think Officer Richard would be interested to sketch my father and brother, if Robert and I described them to him? We'd compensate him, of course. We have nothing like that to remember them. Our family never sat for a painting of us, even though Father talked about it once."

"Once he's completed the current assignment he's on, I'm sure we can work something out. I'm warning you, though. I'm told by those who were present that it took him several hours to get the sketches right based off of another's description. I sat for him. My session took close to four hours." Nottingham explained.

"Oh my! That must have nearly driven you mad to sit still that long, George!" she giggled.

"It was worth it. I wasn't doing it for me. I was doing it for you. Remember that time I was away from you for quite a time? It was exactly one month ago to this day. I had to travel to where he is stationed at the moment. I eventually had to explain to you that it was about your wedding gift. Well, this is the result of that outing." he said, nodding to the sketch in her hand.

"Oh, sugar! I was accusatory that evening, and full of questions. Forgive me, George. I'm sorry I made such a fuss about it." Rhiannon sighed.

"There's nothing to forgive, my lady. That's all over with now." he smiled.

Later, as Rhiannon had fallen asleep while reading a book regarding the history of Nottingham — and he fully understood why it would lull her to sleep; he was in the den. He was seated on a chair by the fire, still nursing the same goblet of brandy, staring into the fire as he contemplated the things his wife had told him about Isabelle, and about Isabelle's request. Something strange was going on. Perhaps Rhiannon was right? Maybe it would be a good idea for him to concede to this ridiculous request, for the purpose Rhiannon explained to him? So that she could closely observe Isabelle. Isabelle wasn't right. She should be overjoyed about the news she was keeping secret. Robert tried to explain it to him, but it still didn't sit right with him somehow. Whatever affected Robert would, in turn, affect Rhiannon. Otherwise, the Sheriff would just let it go.

The tiny bells pealed on the wall in the den. Mortianna had news for him. He stood from his chair and headed toward the door that led down into her lair, wondering what she needed to tell him now?