It was midmorning on Monday, when Madam Birghiva answered a knock on the door of the brothel. She was expecting it to be a client, even though it was unusually early in the day for that. She no longer underestimated how strange some people can be, however. She was startled to see the Sheriff's Scribe standing there to greet her once she opened the door.
"Yes?" Madam Birghiva asked, curiously.
The Madam wondered if this had anything to do with news of Celestria? The Mistress hadn't been seen since she left with the Sheriff, around this time yesterday. Madam Birghiva knew she should expect the demise of the consort, especially given her crimes. A part of her hoped for the best, however — even though the girl had caused her nothing but trouble.
"Good morning, Madam. I've a scroll which was personally penned by His Lordship. He asked me to bring this to you to give to one of your… ladies." the Scribe said, raising the scroll in his hand to show to her.
"I see. And who is the scroll addressed to? Do you know?" she asked with her eyebrow quirked.
"It is for Mistress Floria, Madam." he said. He pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head as the rain picked up.
"Very well. I'll see that she gets it straightaway, if you're permitted to leave it with me to give to her?"
"Yes. That will be fine. As long as you know it's important she reads it. She is being summoned to the castle, Madam." the Scribe informed her.
"Very well." Madam Birghiva said as she accepted the scroll. "Is that all? There's no other news to report to me?"
"Well, no, Madam. Nothing in particular. Were you expecting news?" he asked with a bewildered expression. He was wondering if she somehow dyed her hair with something to make it that shade of ginger? Or… was that colour possibly natural?
She knew immediately that the Scribe was unaware of what transpired here at the brothel yesterday.
"No. I'm not expecting news of any sort. Thank you." Madam Birghiva said.
The Scribe nodded, then went on his way.
Fifteen minutes later, she was meeting with Floria in her office.
"Yes, Madam? You summoned for me?" Floria asked.
"Yes, child. Do come in. I've a message to give to you." Madam Birghiva announced. She stood from her chair, grabbing the scroll off the desk and walked toward the Mistress.
"Oh?" Floria asked, suspiciously.
She couldn't imagine who would be sending her a message? Floria hoped the uncle she declared dead to her hadn't somehow found a way to track her down. She averted her eyes a moment and frowned.
Madam Birghiva passed the scroll to Floria, and watched as the girl hastily broke the seal, unfurled the document and began to read.
"Oh, my! What on earth is this about?" Floria exclaimed, rather bewildered by it.
"What is it, Missy?" the Madam asked, curiously.
"I'll let you read it, then you tell me, Madam. He has asked for you to read this." Mistress Floria said as she passed the scroll to her.
Madam Birghiva narrowed her eyes and took the missive from the young consort. She began to read:
"Monday, October 27th, 1197 Anno Domini
Mistress Floria;
Greetings, Missy. This note is to inform you that your presence is requested at Nottingham Castle, tomorrow at midday.
It is imperative that you wear your best creations for this meeting. Choose a fine gown. Perhaps a cape, also? Anything to showcase your work is preferable.
This invitation is extended to Madam Birghiva, as well. Show her this scroll. I shall require her input once your meeting is finished. Since you are instructed to dress in your best finery, I expect the Madam to dress in similar fashion.
One of my Officers of the Black Knights will be arriving to personally escort both of you ladies here, and he will likewise escort you back.
All is well. Do not be alarmed. It shall become clear once we meet.
Sincerely,
— Nottingham
Sheriff and Chief Constable."
Madam Birghiva looked up from the document to the Mistress.
"Well, Missy. It seems you have a decision to make."
"On whether or not I respond to this invitation?" Floria asked, genuinely.
She couldn't imagine what this was about, but it couldn't be good. After all, where the hell was Celestria? Floria didn't think much of Celestria, but she didn't wish her harm, either. It wasn't like Celestria to just disappear without warning. Floria had a bad feeling Celestria might be dead. Floria knew she needed to be stopped from possibly harming the Sheriff's lady, but she believed Celestria wasn't honestly right somehow. It was in her face, her speech. Like she was in her own little world. Perhaps the woman was sick, or something strange?
It was unlike Celestria to behave so erratically from everything Floria had learned from the other consorts. Thus, Floria was a little trepidatious about answering the Sheriff's call. Floria had done a little digging, then recalled herself the stories she'd heard about Robin of Lockskey and his nemesis, the Sheriff of Nottingham.
"No. A decision on what to wear. He specifically asked for you to wear your finest creations. This is not one of those "invitations" we can just decline." Madam Birghiva said. She hooked the first two fingers of each of her hands in the air at the mention of the Sheriff's odd word for summons.
"I don't understand? So much for Rule Number Two — "
"We follow that as a general rule of thumb. This time he has made a specific request." Madam Birghiva pointed out.
"You don't think this could be a trick?" the Mistress asked.
"No. I'm not sure what exactly this is about, but I honestly don't think it's a trick, my dear." the Madam said, confidently.
"Very well. If that's the case, I do have a few wardrobe pieces in mind to show to him. One is something that will fit you, in fact, Madam Birghiva." Floria smiled.
"Excellent, my dear! The more pieces you have to show, the better, I think. Why don't you show me what you have in mind to dazzle him with, Floria?" Madam Birghiva said with a grin.
"As you wish, Madam." Floria said.
The brunette maiden awoke, finding herself in a comfortable, soft bed, covered in warm blankets. She had no idea where she was. Falling rain was heard in the background, so she looked left toward the window and was startled to see a strange woman seated on a chair there. She had her eyes closed and was mouthing words as her hands moved. The maiden guessed the woman was holding a rosary.
"Oh!" the maiden whispered.
"Ah! You're awake." the woman said. She arose from her chair and walked toward the bed.
As the woman drew closer, the maiden could see she was dressed in a Nun's habit. She couldn't make out her features, but the maiden guessed the Nun was older.
"You are safe. There's no need to fret. I am Sister Isemay. Father Tuttle has asked for me to tend to you." the woman said with a smile, which was unseen by the maiden.
The maiden nodded.
"And whom might you be? Can you speak, Miss?" Sister Isemay asked.
The maiden fought to keep her eyes open as she looked toward the Nun. She opened her mouth to speak, but found it was more difficult than she thought it would be. Finally, it came.
"Celest — "
"Interesting. Not a name you hear often. Anyway, Celest, what do you remember? I fear you caught your death of something while you were laying on the ground, and then left to stew in damp clothes for too long." the Nun sighed as she shook her head in dismay.
"Poison… "
"You were poisoned, Miss?" the Nun asked directly, as her eyes widened.
"Yes." she whispered.
"Hmm. That would explain why you've been asleep for so long. It's just past midday, Miss. You were brought here last evening." the Nun said.
She nodded weakly, struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Who did this, Celest? Do you know them?"
"We… all… know him." Celestria said softly, yet firmly.
The Nun narrowed her eyes, curiously.
"Whom?" Sister Isemay demanded.
"The… Sheriff of… Nottingham." Celestria whispered before closing her eyes. She began to softly snore.
At this point, there were a few of the Sheriff's men arriving on the outskirts of town, headed toward the abandoned manor. Leading the pack were Sir Gisborne and Duke Farnsworth. Along with Mordrid and Ancel, Officers Luke, Adam, and Alex were present as part of the reinforcement unit.
They stopped about a mile away and gathered in a clearing near a wooded area for a quick briefing.
"Alright, men. Let's get clear on the plan. As you recall, just this morning the Sheriff advised that you two would need to think of a way to get our attention should you need us. Did either of you come up with anything? We need to know what the signal is." Guy said, addressing Mordrid and Ancel.
"I'd say firing an arrow through the window, but that's too obvious. If the bloke is there we need to signal you discreetly." Mordrid said.
"You just want an opportunity to fire your arrows and use your new longbow, I think." Ancel smirked.
"Good old Samson Fingle comes through again. Best bow craftsman in the — " Adam was interrupted.
"Sure, I would; but… I won't." Mordrid shrugged.
"Aye, and there's the small matter of needing to be covert about the weapons in your possession." Duke Farnsworth said. He sighed.
"With all due respect, Duke, it's eleven ninety seven. Most every man carries a weapon of some sort for protection. Even women — well, the smart ones do." Mordrid pointed out.
"True. Except you don't see too many carting a longbow with a quiver when they are staying in a manor." a beat. "The point is, that was an awful idea, and you know it. Don't slip on me, Mordrid. You're better than that." Duke Farnsworth said, firmly.
"Understood, Duke. I was… kind of jesting, though." Mordrid shrugged.
Duke Farnsworth sighed and shook his head. Then, he took a swill of water from his hip flask as he maintained eye contact with Mordrid for a moment.
"Right." Gisborne sighed. "Anyone have any other bright ideas?"
"What if we light a torch or candle and place it in front of the window, Sir Gisborne?" Ancel asked.
"Speaking of bright ideas… " Alex quipped.
"That might work." Luke said.
"Aye. Sounds like a good plan." Guy said, then he turned to Duke Farnsworth. "What say you, Captain?"
"I agree. Of course, we'll also be closely observing, since there's not always opportunities in tense situations to send a signal." Duke Farnsworth nodded.
"Of course we will, Duke." Guy said.
"Do we even bother with this if we don't see the bloke's horse on our approach of the manor?" Alex asked.
"We must. We don't make any decisions before personally clearing the place. Just because his horse isn't there doesn't mean he isn't." Luke blurted.
The Lieutenant, Captain, and the other four men looked to Luke with varying degrees of astonishment registered on their faces.
Luke sighed. "Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Sir Gisborne. Captain." he said as he addressed both of the Sheriff's top ranking men.
"There's nothing to forgive, lad. Everything you said is correct." Duke Farnsworth said.
"Indeed. That is correct. If you recall, my cousin mentioned just recently that he values your input." Guy said to Luke. Then, he looked to the rest of the men. "When we are looking for someone, whether with intent of arrest, or rescue, we don't make judgements based on a guess. We gather the facts — which leads us to whomever we're looking for."
"We must be one hundred percent certain." Duke Farnsworth added.
"Aye. You're right." Alex conceded.
"The horse being visible or not is only a clue. It's not evidence." Ancel added, addressing Alex.
"That is correct, Ancel." Duke Farnsworth nodded.
"Where shall we be positioned once we arrive there, Captain? Sir Gisborne?" Adam asked the Sheriff's top men.
"At least two near the rear entrance." Duke Farnsworth said.
"The rest of us near the front entrance to the manor." Guy said. "Soon, we will send Mordrid and Ancel ahead of us, then we proceed and take position."
"How long before we abort today's mission — assuming Mister Potato bloke don't show up, that is?" Alex asked, genuinely.
Mordrid and Adam chuckled. Luke and Ancel smirked, along with the Sheriff's top ranking men.
Guy straightened his expression before responding.
"We're not just going to breeze in and out of there, if that's what you mean, Alex. God's nightgown!" Guy spat in frustration.
"What's the rush, Alex? You have a date, or something?" Adam teased.
"Men! For the love of all that is sacred, could we cut down on the jokes? At least until the end of today's assignment." the Captain huffed.
"Indeed, Captain." Adam nodded.
"Very well, Captain." Alex sighed.
"The Captain is right. We need your complete attention on the task at hand. At the moment, it's appearing only Luke and Ancel are taking the matter seriously. Kindly redirect your attention to your duties." Guy said to the men, firmly.
Officers Mordrid, Adam, and Alex verbalized their complete agreement, and vowed to be more attentive, and perform well.
"Is there anything else you wish to address before we continue?" Mordrid asked Guy and Duke Farnsworth.
"We're good." Guy said.
"Indeed." the Captain agreed.
With that, Mordrid and Ancel proceeded ahead. The rest of the men waited a time before urging their horses in the direction of the abandoned manor.
In the mid afternoon, the Sheriff was meeting with Officer Gerad of the Black Knights in the Council Quarters, regarding a personal matter he assigned Gerad to investigate. He gave the matter a good deal of thought before he made the decision to handle it in this manner.
"Back so soon, I see. Well, did you see her?" Nottingham asked as he walked toward him.
"No, Milord. There was no sign of her, or anyone, really. I mean… anyone we know." Gerad hinted as he pushed some strands of his long raven hair from his bright blue eyes.
"So, you didn't see Lady Rhiannon, but… you saw someone, didn't you, Gerad?" he surmised as his eyebrow shot north. He folded his arms and sighed. "Was it the stumpy bloke?"
"No, Milord. It's impossible. This bloke is lean, and agile. Not a particularly tall fellow, though." a beat. "I don't recognize this bloke, Milord, but I think I know what happened to Mordrid's longbow and quiver of arrows." Gerad sighed.
"Great. So we found the thief. Did he look like one of the Knights?"
"I can't say for sure, Milord. Couldn't see his face. He wasn't wearing the official uniform of the Black Knights. This bloke was dressed in different garb." Gerad said.
"Rags, no doubt." Nottingham sneered.
"No, Milord. Black leather, in fact. Finely tailored." Gerad sighed. "The bloke isn't poor, so I don't know why he's got Mordrid's weapons, nor why he's strolling about your property with them days later? Is it me, or is that pecul — "
"Where is this thief now, Gerad?"
"I lost sight of him. He was near the wooded area, well in back of your gardens when I spotted him."
"Very well."
"Shall I return and look for your lady again, Milord? Or, shall I just go and detain the thief? Who knows what this bloke is up to." Gerad offered.
"No, that is fine. Unless there's any change, you're free now until tomorrow. Rest up, lad. I'll take it from here." Nottingham said.
"Milord, if I may?" Gerad began, tentatively.
"Fine. Let's hear it." he sighed.
"I know you're concerned for Lady Rhiannon, and that's why you had me be on the lookout for her." a beat. "All of your men are on high alert, Milord. We won't let the stumpy fellow anywhere near her." Gerad vowed.
The Sheriff nodded.
"And as for this mysterious, peculiar fellow who was seen in the back gardens, I think I should accompany you. Or… someone should. This fellow moves a bit fast, Milord." Gerad suggested.
"I appreciate the initiative, Gerad, but as I said before, unless there's any change; meaning, your assistance is requested, then you are free the rest of the day. Just stay close." he said, firmly.
The Sheriff had a very good idea of the identity of the weapons thief "fellow".
"As you wish, Milord." Gerad nodded.
The Sheriff took a moment to sip from his goblet of water before heading out to the gardens. It wasn't long into Gerard's explanation before he knew exactly whom was roaming around the wooded area carrying Mordrid's weapons.
He could still hear Robert's voice in his head telling him just yesterday: "We relented, even when she wanted to learn how to shoot arrows, because she was adamant"
She had been known to disguise herself in men's clothing before — his clothing, in fact. It made sense. A great deal of sense. He was as certain as the rain he could hear falling outside the window of the Council Quarters. The person Gerad saw in the wooded area was Lady Rhiannon.
Nottingham set the goblet down upon the table and proceeded toward the door. He thought of grabbing his surcoat that was hanging on a hook nearby, but thought better of it. It would just encumber him as well as identify him to her. He wasn't angry with her, but he needed to see this for himself. And if it wasn't her, he would need to get the stranger escorted off the property.
Some fifteen minutes later, he was just entering into the wooded area well in the very back of the gardens. The rain was falling softly, so it didn't impede his vision. As he moved farther in he could see the figure of a person he was certain Gerad just described.
The stranger wasn't particularly tall, and they were lean. The figure was facing away from him, as he kept himself hidden amongst brush, trees, and the like. The person was wearing a long, fitted black leather cloak of some sort, which flared out at the waist. They were dressed in men's clothing and boots, and the hood was up. Black leather gloves covered the hands, thus Nottingham couldn't get a sense of whether they appeared masculine or feminine. If that was a man he was very young. In the Sheriff's mind, it looked like either a lad of barely fourteen years, or a woman. Most fourteen year old lads would be too intimidated to unabashedly steal weapons from the Sheriff's stables, then use them for target practice on his property. There was only one person he knew this could be, but he would have to play this differently than how he normally would.
He slowly and discreetly advanced closer and closer. Soon he was behind a tree, peaking around it. The person was walking toward his direction, holding the bow and quiver of arrows, looking downward, yet moving with a purposeful stride. They stopped and turned in the direction from which they came. The stranger raised the bow with their left hand, and loaded it with their right. Nottingham came out quietly from behind the tree. He was approximately eight feet behind. He stood a moment, very quietly observing. He could see the target. He guessed it was about seventy yards away.
The figure in the finely tailored black leather cloak, with matching breeches, boots, and gloves, took aim and fired the arrow. It hit just shy of centre of the target. Nottingham made his presence known at this time.
"Bravo, stranger. For I know you're a stranger as my men would have hit that target dead centre mass in one go." a beat. "Show yourself to me. You are in possession of stolen weapons, not to mention trespassing." the Sheriff said, sternly.
The figure froze and stood still a few moments. He guessed they were contemplating whether or not to run.
"Don't even think of running right now. Show yourself. Now!" he commanded.
The dark stranger turned around slowly and looked up.
He shook his head. "You! I should have known." Nottingham sighed.
"Now, just let me explain before you get all cross on me, George. You need to relax. You're liable to have a collapse, or something." Rhiannon said.
"What?" he asked, slowly.
"It's… common for some people in your — " she stopped herself.
"Age group? Is that what you were going to say?" he shook his head and walked closer toward her, slowly circling her. "And you wonder why I hate my birthday." he sighed. "Don't start deflecting, my dear. What in God's Hell do you think you're doing?"
"Are you going to listen? Or will you just keep getting yourself in a state?"
"Rhiannon… " he sighed.
"I'm bored out of my mind, if you must know. I needed an activity. It's only my upper body getting use. I'm sure there is no danger." Rhiannon said.
"Then, why hide it, Rhiannon? And dress like a bloke?" a beat. "Did you have some of my clothes tailored?" he asked while subtly looking her over, and concealing a salacious grin.
"No, they're not your clothes. They're mine. I hid it because no one, including you would understand. Everyone thinks if I don't sit idle for the entire confinement I'm the worst mother ever. It's ludicrous, George. I'm taking the time to hone a skill which I believe every lady should know. I need to know how to protect myself." she said with conviction.
"You have plenty of people around to protect you, my lady. Myself, your brother, my men — "
"That is true. However, there are no guarantees in life. We both know this. I don't ever wish to be frightened again, George. I will fight back. I will aim, and I will not miss." Rhiannon said, vehemently.
"And it seems as though you're well on your way." the Sheriff remarked. He nodded to the stuffed target in the distance.
She smiled, ruefully.
"Surely you must have known you were stealing someone's weapons? Those belong to Mordrid, one of my top men. He was in a right state about it, too."
"I was planning to return them… " she said, weakly.
"When, my lady? Next year?" he chuckled. Next, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's all sorted. Mordrid has a new longbow now. In future, however, next time you want something, just ask." he said, firmly.
"Alright."
"Don't overdo it, Rhiannon. Promise me. For now, you are done for the day."
"I'm just about to try it at seventy five — "
"I'm sure. You need to rest now, Rhiannon. Come."
"Very well. Just give me of couple of moments to put things away." she said.
"Where are you keeping them?" the Sheriff asked, nodding to the weapons in her hands, and the target affixed to a tree some seventy yards in the distance.
"I keep them buried under brush and leaves, under some bushes close to a tree." Rhiannon said.
"We shall have to do something about that." he paused a moment before continuing. "Very well. Make it brief, my lady. The rain is picking up and the temperature is dropping. It's a bad time to be out here, especially considering your condition." he advised.
Rhiannon nodded, then headed to where the target was located. She gathered everything and placed them where she always kept them. She returned to him fairly quickly.
"Come." he said as he offered his arm.
"Alright, but I'd rather not take your arm. You can know who I am while I'm dressed like this." Rhiannon sighed. "I'd rather no one else know. There's a reason I'm dressed like a man."
"Right. Well, let's make haste, my dear. Later, when we're warmer, you can tell me what that reason is because I'd like to hear it." a beat. "How did you get past the guards dressed in that garb?" the Sheriff asked, curiously.
"I didn't leave your chambers dressed this way, George." she said as they made their way out of the wooded area and into the gardens.
"I see. So, where did you change clothes?" he asked, pointedly.
"Uh… must I answer that?"
"Yes."
"I uh… changed into these clothes in Madam Oberon's chambers." Rhiannon said.
"Good. I need to speak to her, anyway." Nottingham said, casually.
"What?"
"You heard me. I need to speak to her about a meeting we're having tomorrow, my dear. It's not unusual for me to meet with some members of my staff from time to time." he said with a curious quirk of his brow.
"About your wedding attire, perhaps?"
"No. About a possible assistant for her. She's becoming rather popular around here, and she could probably use the help." he explained.
"Does that mean she'll take a cut in her wages, then?" Rhiannon asked as she stopped in her tracks, facing him.
"What? No! Why would you think that?" he demanded.
"Because it's yet another new staff member. Money to go around to your staff must be getting spread a little thin." she remarked, absently.
"Wait… what, now? Are you seriously questioning how I'm handling the budget afforded me by the King, for the love of Zeus — to pay my staff's wages?" Nottingham asked, aghast at what he'd just heard from her.
"Uh… forgive me. I misspoke." she tried to gloss it over, but it didn't work too well.
"Rhiannon, you mustn't speak about that which you know nothing about. You make me sound impulsive, and incapable. I am neither." he said as he placed his hands firmly upon her shoulders. "What has gotten into you? Why are you confrontational as of late? You do it with me, and with your brother, as well. Are you that unhappy?"
Rhiannon was taken aback by what he just said. She didn't realize she was being so difficult with so many people. The two men she cherished the most, she was being rude to.
"No, sugar. I'm not unhappy at all. Forgive me. As I said, I misspoke. You are not impulsive, nor incapable. I respect the man you are and the work that you do. I was only curious how an extra staff would be beneficial for Madam Oberon. It wouldn't be good for her if she took a cut in her wages. I overstepped." she explained, smoothly.
"This is what I get for choosing an intelligent one." Nottingham sighed. "I promise you, Lady Arianna will benefit from this. There will be no decrease in her earnings."
"Very well." Rhiannon said.
"I know we agreed we would act as equals in private, my lady, but you did overstep a moment ago. There is no reason for you to concern yourself with the details of the distribution of funds. You and our children shall be looked after." he said, firmly.
"There's the mention of more than one child again." Rhiannon sighed. "That's not what this is about. I told you just a month ago I'm not here for your wealth. I just didn't want my Wardrobe Mistress to suffer for having extra help, is all." she explained.
"Very well. Come, my lady. I want you to get out of the cold wind and rain." he said. He moved closer to her and kissed her cheek. "By the way, you are quite a vision." he smiled.
"Thank you." she murmured. "I wasn't the intent, though. I was hoping to blend in."
"You do — when people think you're a man. Just don't look up." he smirked. Then, he straightened his expression. "We're closer to the castle now. I think it's best we enter in separately. If you want to keep up this wild ruse and stay hidden in that… costume, then it's the best plan."
"Agreed. How do you want to proceed? You're the expert on strategizing, so… in your opinion, which of us should go first, George?" Rhiannon asked, confidently.
He was taken aback by her directness, and that she gave that much thought to the matter.
"I'll go first. I will clear the way so you can get to Lady Arianna's chambers without notice. And if anyone asks, I'll tell them you are a Knight working in disguise as part of the current search mission team." Nottingham suggested.
"Very well. Thank you." she said.
He nodded while taking her hand, then kissed it. Then, he proceeded ahead of her.
When Mordrid and Ancel arrived on the path where the abandoned manor was located, they found a spot about thirty yards from the entrance to secure their horses. They quickly made their way through the wind and rain that was picking up, toward the front entrance of the manor. As they neared the door, Ancel had a thought.
"Once we're through that door, speak to me as if we're long lost mates from Portsmouth, not as a coworker — just in case he's inside." Ancel suggested.
"Very well. I don't see a horse anywhere near here, though." Mordrid added as he looked around him once more.
"Yes, but we both know that doesn't mean anything. He's going to be getting tired, and cold. He doesn't cope with the outdoors as well as you or I do, Mordrid." Ancel said with his eyebrow quirked.
"I'll take your word for it. And since we need to stay here awhile in case your funny looking former mate drops in, we're building a fire. We might as well enjoy that luxury, since it'll probably be the last time we'll ever be out on a mission — in the comfort of an actual home." Mordrid sighed.
"Agreed." Ancel nodded. He pushed his dark hair out of his gray eyes with his left hand, as he opened the front door with his right.
Once inside, they split up and checked both floors and every room for signs of Hamon. They found nothing and went back to the main sitting room where there was a fireplace. Mordrid pulled a fire striker — a piece of high carbon steel, and a flint rock from his pocket. He grabbed tinder out of a nearby box, mainly pine needles and twigs, arranging them in the fireplace. Next, he struck the flint with the fire striker over the tinder, and set about building the fire. Ancel began to slowly pace the room as he reviewed questions in his mind.
"I thought he'd be here by now. He must know there's nowhere to hide. He can't go running back to Portsmouth. He has to know the Sheriff knows his address by now?" Ancel said, quietly. Even though they cleared the manor, for some unknown reason he felt he should keep his voice lowered.
"You know him best, that means he's bound to turn up sometime soon. Give it time. We've only just arrived." Mordrid said.
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Ancel sighed.
Then, he remembered seeing something out of the corner of his eye when he was upstairs. Something that might have been out of place, but he wasn't certain.
"You keep at that fire, Mordrid. There's something I want to check on the second floor again."
"Very well." Mordrid nodded before turning his attention back to the fire.
Ancel left him and made his way up the stairs. He walked down a long corridor, and soon saw it. Something looked to be sitting out of place on a table in the corridor. He moved closer toward it and inspected it.
It was a leather glove. He recognized it. It belonged to Hamon.
"Well, well, well. Fancy running into you here — at your whore's employer's manor, of all places!"
Ancel stiffened, then turned around to face Hamon. He took a deep breath before doing so because he was going to have to go back to playing a role to make this work.
"Where have you been, Ancel?" Hamon demanded.
"When I returned to camp you were gone. I went to see Rebeccah. I stayed until the following evening and I've been looking for you ever since." Ancel said, smoothly.
"Where is your fine little maiden now? Funny, the place doesn't look lived in." Hamon said with a quirk of his brow.
"I'm not sure. On Thursday, she mentioned something about her mother taking ill, so maybe she had to leave for a time." Ancel lied.
"Really? How did you get in?"
"Door was open." Ancel said. "I came to see Rebeccah — since I couldn't find you anywhere."
"Would that the Sheriff's lady knew how careless her staff were being with her home. A little strange, don't you think?" Hamon asked, curiously.
"Oh, indeed." Ancel said. "So, what about you? Where have you been?"
"Oh, you know. Here. There. Everywhere, really." Hamon said, evasively.
"I see."
"Right. And do you know what I see, Ancel? I see a liar before me. This manor is no more the Sheriff's bitch's home than my boot is!"
"You got that right. As if I'd tell you." Ancel sneered.
He thought of leading Hamon downstairs. He could make an introduction, perhaps light a torch to shine in the window? He thought better of it. He and Mordrid would take care of Hamon once and for all.
"What has gotten into you? Oh, right. The servant to the Sheriff's lady. Or, rather, you've gotten into her." Hamon said, gruffly.
"Ha! As if I'd tell you! Or, perhaps I could just show you?" Ancel smirked. He thumped his boot loudly on the floor a few times.
"The hell are you doing, Ancel? You about to dance, or something?" Hamon chuckled.
"No, but you are." he said as he stared directly into Hamon's eyes.
The rotund, short bloke looked at him, curiously.
"Ah! What do we have here, mate? Kind of looks like the stumpy fellow you've been regaling us about!" Mordrid said as he appeared suddenly behind Hamon, answering Ancel's summons.
Hamon turned around, bewildered as he looked into Mordrid's blue eyes.
"And whom might you be?" Hamon asked. Then, he looked to Ancel. "Wait, who are the us he was referring to you speaking to about me?" he demanded. It dawned on him as he felt Mordrid's hands grabbing his arms behind him. And then, he watched Ancel pull a dagger.
"You pathetic traitor!" Hamon spat. He narrowed his eyes upon Ancel, while attempting to squirm from Mordrid's grasp. He turned his head to address Mordrid. "Take your hands off of me. I insist, at once!"
"Not a chance!" Mordrid said, gruffly.
"You best just shut up and listen." Ancel sneered at him, waving his dagger at him. Then, he looked to his comrade. "Continue, Mordrid. I believe we have his attention now." he grinned, deviously. He held the blade close to Hamon's neck.
Mordrid grinned knowingly to Ancel, while leaning in closer to Hamon's ear. "You're under arrest, by order of the Sheriff of Nottingham." Mordrid announced. He had a firm grasp of the man's wrists now.
"What? What the hell are you on about?" Hamon shrieked.
"You're coming with us. Now!" Ancel said, firmly. He handed a length of rope to Mordrid for use in the detainment while continuing his threat with the dagger.
Mordrid finished tying the outlaw's hands behind his back, then the two of them escorted Hamon down the hall, the stairs, and out of the front door.
"Wait… is that — " Alex began to ask, but was cut off.
"Yes. They got him!" Guy said.
The Lieutenant, and Officers Luke and Alex came our of hiding behind some trees, and walked toward Mordrid, Ancel, and their prisoner.
"Well done, lads!" Gisborne said to Mordrid and Ancel. He looked to Alex next. "Go tell the Captain and Officer Adam we are returning to the castle now. Be sure to tell them the mission is accomplished — finally."
"It shall be done, Sir Guy." Alex said, then left to complete the task.
"Don't bloody tell me you're working for him now? Well, isn't that rich? You, of all people!" Hamon spat as he spoke to Ancel.
"Why is that surprising?" Mordrid asked.
"God's nightgown, Mordrid! Don't even waste your breath on this stumpy bloke." Guy admonished.
"He was working with me!" Hamon exclaimed.
"He was never working with you. That's the beauty of it!" Luke piped up.
"You again! What the hell are you on about, boy?" Hamon demanded. "Of course he was working with me. You saw him with me with your own eyes — on at least two occasions."
"That is correct, but that's not all — " Luke was cut off.
"We don't care what you think. Ancel belongs with us — and you belong in the Sheriff's dungeon! Do keep your cakehole closed, or I will close it for you." Gisborne sneered as he grabbed Hamon's collar and pulled him closer to him. "Do I make myself clear?" he demanded, while reaching for his sword.
Hamon nodded.
Just then, Duke Farnsworth, and Officers Alex and Adam joined them.
"Ah! Success, I see." Duke lFarnsworth said to Guy as he observed the outlaw being detained and held by Mordrid and Ancel.
"Yes. A fine turn of events, indeed." Guy said.
"You were right, Alex. He does resemble a potato." Adam remarked to Alex.
Hamon shook his head and sighed. "I beg your pard — " he was cut off.
"What did I tell you about keeping your mouth shut? You may speak when the Sheriff addresses you!" Gisborne barked.
The outlaw looked downcast.
"Come on, men. Let's get this man delivered to the Sheriff." Duke Farnsworth said.
"You cannot be serious. You have a witless fool working for you now. You do realize that, I hope?" Hamon pleaded to Gisborne and Duke Farnsworth, while nodding toward Ancel.
"Ha! Not that you deserve a reply, but I'll just repeat what the Sheriff's Officer Luke just said: That's the beauty of it!" Gisborne smirked.
"You make zero sense. What nonsense is this? He was my cohort." Hamon insisted.
"I was never your cohort. That's another beautiful thing about it. That's enough out of that mouth of yours, or I promise — you will be gagged." Ancel said, firmly.
Both the Lieutenant and the Sheriff's Captain nodded at Ancel, pleased with his performance in handling Hamon.
Hamon hung his head and shook it.
"Good! Now, if you're done whinging, you will shut the hell up immediately. You're going to need to redirect your energy." a beat. "It will be a bit of a walk." Gisborne sneered.
"Right. The prisoner is secure. Let's be on our way, men. Some of us shall need to meet with the Sheriff when we present this outlaw to him. Let's not waste anymore time." Duke Farnsworth said.
The men agreed. They mounted their horses, then made a slow journey back toward the castle with Hamon walking beside Mordrid's horse, and Mordrid holding the rope that attached to the rope on Hamon's wrists.
Madam Oberon was surprised to hear another knock on her door. She wondered if that was Dame Isabelle coming to inquire about her gown. She still had some work to do on that gown, but she didn't wish to execute that particular task at this moment. So, she set the drawstring gift bags she was working on — which none of the ladies knew about, on the table beside her. She arose from her chair and walked toward the door.
She opened it slowly and tried not to frown. She was contemplating how to get out of this predicament, since Mademoiselle Rhiannon was changing into her gown and cape at the moment in the back room.
"Mon Seigneur Sheriff. Quelle surprise." she said, forcing a smile.
He immediately sensed her discomfiture. Rhiannon obviously hadn't revealed anything to her yet.
"Good day, Lady Arianna. I need a word." Nottingham said.
"Perhaps you could come back in a brief while, mon Seig — "
"It's alright, Madame. Laissez-le entrer. Il sait." Lady Rhiannon said. She emerged a few feet behind Madam Oberon, dressed in a navy tartan gown, her black velvet cape covering it.
"I see." Madam Oberon said while turning to look at Rhiannon. Then, she looked to the Sheriff and beckoned for him to enter.
"Are you here to escort Mademoiselle Rhiannon, then?" Madam Oberon asked, curiously.
"Not really, but that's a pleasant coincidence. I'm actually here to inform you of the meeting we discussed. It is scheduled for the morrow at midday." he said.
"Very well, mon Seigneur." Madam Oberon nodded. Will she be brought here to my chambers, or shall I meet you in your office, or the Council Quarters?"
"She shall be brought to you a little after her arrival at midday. I'd like you to meet with her independently, then I shall return after a specified time and you can give your assessment."
"Very well — "
"Wait… it's Madam Oberon's decision alone?" Rhiannon asked, curiously.
"Not necessarily. It will be negotiable, I'm sure; but I need her opinion of this potential new staff." he explained.
"Interesting. Whom is this person you wish to employ?" Rhiannon asked.
"Your betrothed has discovered some talent, Mademoiselle. He wants my opinion of her work, and to see how she'll fit in." Madam Oberon explained.
"Indeed." Nottingham agreed. "That is precisely the matter."
"I see. Where did you find this woman?" Rhiannon pressed.
"At the brothel." he said, nonchalantly.
"The… what?" she was incredulous.
"Madam Birghiva was questioned, as well as some of her staff as to the whereabouts of a couple of persons on the wanted list. The young lady was among those questioned, and she makes all of her own clothes, it turns out." Nottingham explained.
"Right. And I can only imagine what those gowns must look like. A right state, I — " she was interrupted as her betrothed began to frown.
"He thought she was wearing a creation of mine, Mademoiselle. I'm most interested to see for myself." Madam Oberon added.
"That may be, but if she is a consort, how will that work?" Rhiannon asked, as her jealousy heightened.
"My lady, she is not a woman. She is a consort by necessity. She is young, orphaned, and works for the Madam to support herself. She wishes to be a Seamstress by profession. From what I've seen of her work, she won't have a problem with that ambition. She needs out of that brothel. She's barely a girl." he added.
"But — "
"What if she were our daughter in the future, my lady?" he asked pointedly, as his left eyebrow shot north.
Rhiannon was taken aback. She stared at him wide eyed, then sighed. Was he seriously looking at this maiden from a paternal point of view, rather than a red blooded man who hadn't been intimate for a time?
"Are you jesting right now, George?"
"No. Perhaps you should be there, my lady? Yes. If this works out she shall be working with Lady Arianna. I'd like you to see her work. In fact, I'd like the opinions of Ladies Gisborne and Wordsworth, as well." he smiled. Then, he straightened his expression when he realized how a group of women can be. "Just open your minds… and be pleasant." he said.
Lady Rhiannon was speechless. She looked at him questioningly, yet couldn't get the words out to verbalize a response.
"I am serious, Rhiannon. I want you, Lady Meridwyn, and Lady Isabelle present. You and Meridwyn have Lady Arianna as your Wardrobe Mistress, and with the plans I have for Robert, Isabelle will be inter — " Nottingham suddenly stopped himself when he realized he was being verbose.
"What plans?" Rhiannon asked with her eyebrow quirked.
"Not now, my lady." he said softly, while side eyeing Madam Oberon.
"Right." she sighed. "Very well. This shall be interesting at the very least."
"Oh, oui. Assez fascinant en effet, mon cher." Madam Oberon nodded.
"Right. Will that be agreeable, then?" the Sheriff asked.
"Yes." Rhiannon nodded.
"Bien sûr, mon Seigneur Sheriff." Madam Oberon agreed.
"I take it that's a 'yes'?" he sighed.
"Oui." Madam Oberon nodded.
"Good. I shall see you sometime soon after midday tomorrow." he nodded. Then, he turned to address his betrothed. "And you and our sisters in law shall be present at midday for the meeting — in the Council Quarters, my dear."
"Very well." Rhiannon said.
"I shall send word to them via my Page." the Sheriff said.
"Very well. I would take care of that myself, but I doubt I'll be seeing either of them before then." Rhiannon commented.
"No, my lady. You won't." he smirked, salaciously. Then, he cleared his throat and straightened his expression.
Rhiannon gave him a warm smile. Her aqua green eyes glistened.
Madam Oberon shook her head and grinned.
"Sometimes when I look at you two, you remind me of Jehan and myself." she sighed, happily. "May you have many more years together than we did. I wish a lifetime of it for you." she smiled.
The Sheriff regarded her with a surprised expression. He often forgot that Lady Arianna was widowed, because she always did her utmost to be cheerful and welcoming to everyone she came in contact with. He suspected that had as much to do with her success in the community as her talent, before she was employed by himself and Guy to serve as their ladies' Wardrobe Mistress.
Lady Rhiannon smiled warmly, and grasped Madam Oberon's hand.
"Merci, Madame. Cela signifie tellement pour nous. Tu es très gentil." she said.
Nottingham was properly impressed with his lady's burgeoning fluency in French. He smiled, proudly.
"I'm not sure what you just said, my lady, but you sound just as authentic as Lady Arianna and Jean Louis now!" he exclaimed.
"Oui. Isn't it marvellous, mon Seigneur Sheriff?" Madam Oberon agreed.
"Thank you, both." Rhiannon said.
"Of course. So… what did I miss?" he asked.
Rhiannon started to respond, but, Madam Oberon beat her to it.
"She said that my words meant so much to you both, and that I was being kind." Madam Oberon said.
"Actually, I said you are very kind. Especially since I can tell how much you loved your husband, Madame." Rhiannon said.
"Oui. And my boy, too." Madam Oberon added, softly.
Lady Rhiannon squeezed her hand.
"Wait… you lost a son, Lady Arianna?" Nottingham asked. "I don't think I ever knew that."
"Non. Of course, you wouldn't. It's not something I dwell on or speak of, mon Seigneur Sheriff. Mademoiselle Rhiannon is the only one I've told before now. Your betrothed has become nearly a daughter to me. The breeches, tunic, and boots she wore today belonged to my Guiscard. I'm pleased to see them being put to good use by someone I can trust to look after them." Madam Oberon explained.
"I understand. I can imagine. My condolences, Lady Arianna." he said, genuinely.
For he somewhat understood. When his son was missing, he was concerned he'd never find him. He couldn't imagine how he'd manage if his boy had died.
Rhiannon regarded the Sheriff, thoughtfully.
"Merci, mon Seigneur Sheriff." Madam Oberon smiled.
"What about the cloak? Was that your son's, as well?" he asked.
"Non. I crafted that for Mademoiselle Rhiannon." she explained.
"Extraordinary that you can work with leather, too." he remarked.
"Merci. It takes patience, but the result is satisfying. If the meeting goes well tomorrow, I hope to teach the skill to the young maiden. What is her name, if I may ask?" Madam Oberon asked in her cheery, mellifluous voice.
"Floria." Nottingham said.
"I look forward to meeting Mademoiselle Floria. If she's as good as you say, I'm eager to work with her." Madam Oberon smiled.
As they left Madam Oberon's chambers and began to walk the corridor, Rhiannon completely astonished the Sheriff with her next comment.
"George? Is everything… well with you? I mean… " she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "You're supposed to be the notorious Sheriff of Nottingham, and now you're… taking in strays." Lady Rhiannon blurted, quietly.
"You can't be serious." he chided in a quiet tone, as he didn't want to draw attention.
"Yes… I suppose." she demurred.
"Not strays, Rhiannon. They're people I've just happened upon recently, who possess skills that are beneficial to us. One is invaluable because of how he'll contribute as a Knight, and Investigator. I shall tell you about him sometime. The other is beneficial for your wardrobe. That brings you contentment, and is also useful when we are both required to meet with noblemen and dignitaries." the Sheriff explained. He sighed. "The Sheriff you've heard about before meeting me is sort of half dead. I say "half" because, make no mistake — I look at things differently, my dear, but I'm still him." he hinted in hushed tones.
"Meaning what?" she pressed. "A warning? Should I feel threatened?"
"If you don't know by now that I would never harm you, well… there's no hope for us, my dear." Nottingham sighed, shaking his head.
"Then, what do you mean — exactly?"
"I'm not completely gentil. And, I'm not a gentleman. I could never be as good as… Robert, for instance." Nottingham sighed.
"Dear God, George! Not the best analogy. I couldn't be that good, either. This is where Robert and I clash." Rhiannon whispered.
"The point is I have not become soft or gullible." the Sheriff stated, quietly.
He gently took her hand, and with a nod, he led her to an alcove, away from foot traffic, to mitigate the risk of being overheard.
"First things, first. Did you really just ask me if you should feel threatened by me? Where did that come from?" he demanded in hushed tones.
"The way you said it, it sounded like a warning." she shuffled and looked downcast.
"It's like you see me as someone different lately? I'd swear it." he said with his brow raised.
"No." she parried. For she was starting to wonder about a few things since reading from Lady Aelesia's journal. She sighed and looked up at him. "Alright. That was the first thing. What is the second thing?"
"My new recruit in the Black Knights is in a trial phase pending his performance and a letter of confirmation from his former employer, the Sheriff of Hampshire. The consort, Floria, has been vetted by Madam Birghiva, and her sewing skills shall be evaluated by Lady Arianna. Both have talent to offer." a beat. "The circumstances were similar upon meeting Luke, my dear. If you recall, Luke played a part in saving your life the night you were attacked, less than two months ago." Nottingham said with a knowing quirk of his brow.
"You're right, my love. Luke is a definite asset to us all." she smiled.
"Reserve your judgement about this girl until you see her work." he firmly, advised.
"Alright. Forgive me, I misspoke again. I honestly don't understand why things just blurt out of me lately. I will do better." Rhiannon said.
"It's alright, my angel. I'm glad you are astute and challenge me at times." he winked. "I wouldn't do well with a boring, strictly obedient lady. And I'm sure there's something about your current condition contributing somehow. I suspect many of the things you experience shall return to normal after the child's safe arrival." he smiled as he held her hands.
"What things, George?" Rhiannon whispered.
"Decrease in appetite; prone to feeling chilled, even on warm days; and, well… irritability." he said softly.
Nottingham knew she would be her normal self afterward. He wasn't with her at all when she carried their son; however, her character was unchanged from how she was when they met, once she recovered from the birth and her subsequent complications from it. He knew what he spoke was true.
"Hmm. Yes, I suppose I am irritable. I don't even understand why, to be honest." she shook her head. "But, how can you be certain that simply by giving birth I'll be restored to my former self again?" she pressed.
"My angel, I just know. Perhaps it is a perception of bodily science, perhaps intuition, maybe it's magick? I don't know the reason why, I just… know." a beat. "Look, we really shouldn't be having this discussion outside of our chambers. It's all… highly sensitive topics." the Sheriff whispered.
"You're right." she nodded.
"That's one of the things I love about you — you catch on fast." he grinned, knowingly. Then, he guided her back to the corridor. "Come, my lady. I will see you to the chambers." he said.
Later, in the den of the private chambers, he went to her after she removed her cape.
"You really did look ravishing in that… costume or whatever, my lady." Nottingham said.
"Thank you, my sweet." Rhiannon smiled.
"Alright, now that we're here, you can tell me now." he said, evasively.
"Tell you what?"
"Your good reason for needing to dress like a bloke." he said as his eyebrow shot north.
"It's a means of going unnoticed. No prying eyes. No questions. It permitted me moments of peace. Sometimes I just needed a little breathing room." Rhiannon explained.
"I see." he sighed.
"Do you, though?" she asked, for she could clearly see he looked a bit baffled.
"I understand that feeling. Very well. I'm just trying to wrap my head around the timing. I wasn't expecting to have to tie you down to get you to relax and stay seated for awhile." Nottingham sighed.
"And do what? Sew baby clothes? That's what Madam Oberon is for. Or, at least, the shops." Rhiannon said. "The activity I was doing hardly requires any energy at all." she shrugged.
"Yes. However, you promised you would take time to rest, Rhiannon. Just do that for me." he firmly suggested as he gently held her shoulders.
"I will." she whispered.
"It's for your own good, and the child's. Surely, you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. You must be protected at all costs, my lady." he said softly, as he embraced her. We need you. He thought.
"I am protected. I'm with you." Lady Rhiannon whispered. Then, she extricated herself from his embrace. "Are you going to tell me what the plans are for Robert?"
"No."
"What? This is my brother we're talking about." she reminded him.
"Yes. Once it's in motion I can share it. It's a good thing." he hinted.
"You used to tell me just about everything… " she sighed.
"Rhiannon, I don't think it's fair if you know before he does as it concerns his future. You will be told when the timing is right." the Sheriff said, firmly.
"Very well." she sighed.
"Everything will be well, my lady. You shall see." he said as he embraced her again.
One person dealt with. One more to go. Then, you will be safe. And then, once the danger is eliminated, you shall know of our son. All will be well, my lady….
"Of course, my love. Our wedding is approaching. All is well with the child so far. Everything is already good, and it will stay that way." Rhiannon whispered as she held unto him fast, breathing in his scent of musk, and English leather.
"My lady… " he breathed. He leaned down and kissed her lips passionately as he held her close.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
Rhiannon pulled away and looked up at him.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." she sighed.
"Indeed, but perhaps it's best. Things were getting rather warm in here." he grinned.
"Better to be warm than cold… " she murmured.
"Indeed." he said with a quirk of his brow. He paused a moment then went to answer the knock.
He opened the door of the den, greeted by the Scribe standing before him.
"Yes, Scribe. What is it?" he asked.
"Your men have returned, Milord Sheriff." the Scribe announced.
"Well, that's odd. It's awfully early for them to be back. It's not even quite dusk yet." Nottingham remarked.
"They await you in the Council Quarters, Milord." the Scribe said.
"Who? How many of my men are there?"
"Your Lieutenant, Captain, and Officers Mordrid and Ancel. Officer Luke is also present, but he's kept occupied outside the Council Quarters for now, Milord."
"Well, isn't this curious? Very well. On another note, have the Page inform Lady Gisborne, and Lady Wordsworth they are summoned to the Council Quarters tomorrow at midday. Then, proceed to the Council Quarters for the meeting with my men. I'll be right down." he instructed.
"Very well. Do you mean Robert's Lady Wordsworth, or your Lady Rhiannon Wordsworth, Milord?"
"I'm referring to Robert's lady wife, Isabelle Wordsworth." he confirmed.
The Scribe nodded. He turned to leave, but was interrupted.
"Wait. Give this scroll to the Page, as well." he lowered his voice as he spoke, and discreetly pulled a scroll from the pocket of his surcoat and passed it to the Scribe. He had penned it just before his meeting with Gerad. "The Page is to deliver this to Madam Birghiva at the brothel. I'd have you do it because, frankly, I trust you more. He's just a young lad and his memory is not as sharpened as us… older men are; but you have already been there today." the Sheriff sighed.
"Very well, Milord. I will stress the importance of it to him. Unless… you'd like me to deliver it after the meeting with your men?" the Scribe suggested.
"Perfect. That is better. Put it somewhere safe and take it after the meeting." he said.
"Very well, Milord. I shall go now to speak to the Page about informing the ladies of tomorrow's meeting at midday." the Scribe nodded before taking leave to carry out the tasks.
The Sheriff closed the door behind him and looked toward his lady.
"My lady, I must meet with my men briefly. I will return to you soon." he smiled as he advanced closer toward her.
"If they're back already, I hope it's good news." she said.
"Doubtful." he sighed. "Rest, my lady. I shall return soon, and we shall dine." he said as he held her in a half embrace.
"I shall try." she sighed.
"You don't have to sleep, Rhiannon. Just keep yourself quiet. Perhaps read your book, or something similar?" he suggested.
"Oh, yes. I could do. Perhaps I shall read it in the bath? I just need a hot soak to warm me — until you return." she said, softly.
"Of course, my lady, but… you're going to read — in the tub?" he asked as his left eyebrow shot north.
"Yes. Why not? Both are relaxing activities, which, I'm sure you'll approve of?" she stated, demurely.
"Yes. It's just an odd combination." he said.
"Kind of like we are?" she teased.
"No. That's where you're wrong, my lady. You and I are a perfect match instead." he whispered as he pulled her close to him, his hand grabbing the back of her head as he did so for one more precious, languid kiss.
"Damn you, George." she whispered when they broke the kiss. "I've missed you like this, but this isn't helping the zero intimacy rule right now."
"Indeed. We shall see about that. I must go, my angel. Don't get any ideas about going for a run, or something." the Sheriff sighed.
"On one condition." she said.
"Rhiannon, I haven't time for game — "
"Kiss me again." she whispered.
"On one condition." he said with his eyebrow quirked.
"Thought you were in a hurr — "
"Never question whether or not I would hurt you. What I said before is true. If you would believe that, I see no point in continuing." the Sheriff said as he bore his amber hazel eyes into hers.
"Really? What does that mean, exactly? I'm carrying your child, in case you've forgotten." she reminded him.
He just continued to stare into her eyes with a knowing expression. He wouldn't say it. It angered her before, but it was the truth of it. He had no interest in a one sided affair. He never wanted Rhiannon to look into his eyes and remind him of how Marian once regarded him — with fear.
"Let me guess. I go to my manor, and you raise our child — alone." she closed her eyes and sighed.
"When it comes to us, I'm not the villain, my lady. I'm the one who is devoted to you, and would die to protect you. Do you understand?" he said, firmly.
"Yes." she swallowed. She hung her head. It bothered her that he said those words again. That he would die for her. She would keep that to herself for now. He had a meeting to get to.
"Do you honestly fear me?" he asked, pointedly.
"No. I do not. I adore you." she said as she looked up at him.
"Good. I must go. Do you still want that — "
"Kiss? Yes, my sweet." she whispered.
He was more than happy to oblige.
A short time later, he entered into the meeting chamber to find most of his top men, and his newest recruit. He didn't see Luke anywhere near before he went inside, but he guessed Luke was assigned to a task by the Captain.
"Well, this is premature. The sun hasn't even set, and yet, here you are. Why am I not — " Nottingham was interrupted.
"Mission complete, my Lord Sheriff." Ancel spoke up, suddenly.
"Come again?"
"He is correct, my Lord. It is complete." Duke Farnsworth said.
"About time, too." Mordrid added
"Don't tell me you found the wretched bloke's body somewhere?" he huffed.
"Negative." Ancel said.
"We got him, Cousin." Guy announced.
"What?" the Sheriff asked, slowly.
"He's here. Actually, it was Ancel and Mordrid who captured him." Guy added.
"I see. Well done, lads." he nodded to Mordrid and his newest recruit, Ancel. Then, he looked to his top men. "Who was the one who brought him here? — So I can congratulate him."
"That would be Mordrid, my Lord. Sir Guy and I felt it best that Ancel not be tasked with that. He has more of a history with the… rather unfortunate looking bloke than any of the rest of us." Duke Farnsworth explained.
"Aye. And from the sounds of it, Ancel did the right thing summoning Mordrid straightaway, rather than going rogue and trying to be a hero for his first capture, on assignment." Guy added.
"That is correct." Mordrid piped in.
"Very good. Now… where is he?" he sneered.
"Officer Luke has him detained outside the Council Quarters, my Lord." Duke Farnsworth said.
"Bring him to me." Nottingham demanded.
Duke Farnsworth went outside the door for a few moments and returned with the prisoner in custody to present to the Sheriff.
"What a displeasure to see you again." Nottingham hissed as he walked closer toward the prisoner.
"Indeed." Hamon spat. "You're all mad. And now, you've added the witless wonder to your ranks to even out the madness. Laughable!" Hamon chuckled as he nodded toward Ancel.
"Funny thing about that. He's wittier than you'll ever be. You'll never know the half of it. The only fool I see in this room is you." Nottingham sneered.
"He worked with me." Hamon said.
"Sure. Whatever. Ancel has already answered to me and, as you can see, that worked out very well. He is not being questioned right now. You are. You were plotting to murder my bride to be!" Nottingham barked as he grabbed the prisoner by his collar and pulled him closer.
"As you murdered my sister." Hamon taunted, unabashedly.
"Your witchy sister caused her own home to burn. She had candles and dangerous potions littered everywhere in that place, we found out. Not to mention the pentagram necklace. Do not waste my time with this ridiculous theory of yours." Nottingham warned. "It's a miracle the little heretic didn't curse the whole Village with her lunacy."
"An eye for an eye. Burned flesh for burned flesh. Fair is fair." Hamon said.
"You are insane. How dare you, you insipid tree stump!" Nottingham bellowed as he pulled a dagger from its sheath and pointed it under Hamon's chin.
"We're no different. Besides, I warned you to keep an eye on your belongings." Hamon said brazenly, considering the tip of the Sheriff's blade was just beginning to graze his chin.
The Sheriff sighed, then looked to his Scribe.
"Are you getting all of this nonsense documented, Scribe?" he asked.
"Yes, Milord." the Scribe nodded.
"Good." he said, then looked back to the prisoner. "Right. About that… if my lady belongs to me it is because she chooses to. Not because I own her. She is not, nor will she ever be one of my "belongings". People are not objects. That is just one example of how we differ." Nottingham hissed, as he looked him up and down, and sneered.
Hamon just stared at him a little for a moment, then decided to try his luck one more time.
"You have nothing on me. I have committed no crime." Hamon said.
"Nobody even thinks of harming a hair on my lady's head. She shall soon be wed to an appointed official, therefore, I take it personally. You were plotting her murder. You're as guilty as sin itself, and you know it. Save your breath. I do not give a fool's damn about your excuses!" he hissed through his teeth in a low growl.
Nottingham put the dagger back into the sheath on his belt, let go of the prisoner, then addressed his men.
"Throw him in the dungeon. Tell Joseph to administer twenty five lashes to this cretin as part of his welcome package." Nottingham grinned.
"Very well." Guy said, as the rest of the men nodded in agreement.
The task was completed, and they knew he was pleased.
"After you've done that, be sure to pour yourselves a libation or two. You've all earned it." he added.
Guy took the prisoner away so that he could personally speak to Joseph about the matter.
"Well, then. I guess we're off to the tavern!" Mordrid excitedly announced to Ancel.
"We must let Luke — " Ancel started to say, but was interrupted.
"No. Not the tavern. You lads stay close by. I've a funny feeling about the bloke. I don't know why, but my gut is sensing something is off." Nottingham said.
"Very well, Milord Sheriff." Ancel said.
"Aye, Milord. Should one of us join Alfred in manning the entrance to the dungeon?" Mordrid suggested.
"Might not be a bad idea, Milord." Duke Farnsworth said.
"Yes. That's a good point, Mordrid. That shall be your assignment tonight." the Sheriff said.
"Very well." Mordrid nodded.
"You can drink tomorrow, lad. Sorry." the Sheriff said, dryly.
"Understood, Milord."
"Right, then. Very good, men. Meeting adjourned." the Sheriff said.
As the men were leaving, he stepped outside the door and motioned for Luke to come inside the meeting chamber.
"Yes, Milord Sheriff? How can I be of assistance?" Luke asked after the door closed behind him.
"I need you to do something for me. I'm conducting a meeting tomorrow at midday. I need you to go to the brothel in the morning to escort Madam Birghiva and Mistress Floria to this castle and into this very room for that meeting."
"Very well, Milord. I shall do as you command, but if I may ask — "
"What is it, Luke?"
"With all due respect, wouldn't it behoove you to conduct the meeting with these… ladies, at the brothel instead of here, Milord?"
"Not in this case, no. The meeting has nothing to do with their variety of business. In fact, Lady Rhiannon is going to be present, too." he hinted.
"I see." Luke said. Except, he was lying. He couldn't imagine what this was about.
Nottingham knew this would raise suspicion. And this was the precise reason he tasked the Scribe with taking another scroll to the brothel. He could have had Luke deliver it in the morning; however, there were only two men who wouldn't question him about the reason for delivering a scroll, which the women were then instructed to burn after reading: Guy, and the Scribe — and only one of them would know the whole truth of the matter.
"After the meeting is over, you are to escort them back there. Then, you have the rest of the day off, lad. The meeting shouldn't be long." Nottingham said.
"Very well, Milord." Luke nodded in agreement.
The scent of roses from Mortianna's liquid soap concoction permeated the steamy air as Lady Rhiannon leaned back against the tub, holding the books well above the water level on a wooden tray that was placed across the tub. She returned to the last entry she was reading the evening before, the January 2nd entry, right at the part she was in the middle of before being interrupted by her betrothed.
"… I've decided now to do what I should have done first and foremost. I'm going to take this directly to Father. He won't stand for such blatant disrespect. I hope he shall heed my words. He may not. The only man who takes me seriously is Giles. I've thought of telling him about this, but that may not be the best plan right now."
The entry ended there, and there was a break in Lady Aelesia's writing for several days. Rhiannon reached beside her where a goblet of water was placed on a small table beside the tub. She grabbed the goblet, brought it to her lips and sipped from it as she pondered what her would be mother in law had written. Could Osric be capable of harming —
She sighed and put the goblet back, moving on to the next entry.
"Sunday, January 27th, 1157;
I have not been inclined to write in awhile. So much has happened. I am alone. No one to speak to at the moment besides my Aunt Mortianna. My aunt does believe me, however, because she has seen things about Osric in her methods for gathering portents.
And that leads me to this: Mother is annoyed with me. Father thinks I'm being ridiculous, and I doubt his belief in what I attempted to tell him. Next, I tried to present my concerns to Evie. She is livid and won't speak to me now. I don't know if she thinks I'm jealous of her happiness, or what, but… jealousy? Doesn't she know how much I adore my husband? I'm trying to protect her from someone I think is a dangerous man, with unscrupulous intentions, and she refuses to listen to me, or see it. Giles knows something is amiss, but I haven't had the opportunity to tell him anything. He's been away on a mission for a fortnight now. I do hope he returns to me soon. I would feel safer if he were near to me.
Just before my lord husband left I spoke to Evie. I tried to tell her about Osric's frightening behaviour toward me that I described in my last entry. She refused to listen. She accused me of trying to thwart her chance at happiness. I then attempted to remind her that there are many gentlemen in the shire who would be more than willing to offer her happiness, but she is blind to Osric's misdeeds. All she sees is him, and his air of charm, and damn anyone who tries to warn her.
Perhaps it is well we aren't speaking. I do not wish for that man to know that I am alone in this castle. Actually, not completely alone as there are sentry here. But, they are not my husband.
I need him here. I pray for his safe and expedient return to me. I think I will tell him of everything that has transpired. I should have told him right at the start; however, I feared Giles would have killed Osric, and then Evie would have blamed me forever. I was foolish. I could have managed with the outcome of that because at least myself and Evie would be safe. We would have found a way to repair a quarrel between us. How now can either of us be safe?
I must be careful. I refuse to leave this castle until Giles returns. Please, God, bring him home to me. I need my lord husband here."
Rhiannon turned the page. Again, there was a long break until the next entry. This time, a fortnight. She began to read.
"Monday, February 11th, 1157;
Finally, my beloved has returned to me safely. He reports the mission was a success. He is in fine spirits, and I've missed him immensely. Thus, I've decided to wait to speak to him about the matter of Osric.
I must go to Giles now. My thoughts can wait. I need a distraction from them, as well."
Rhiannon was aware that she had only so much time before the water would begin to lose heat, but she was compelled to read just a bit more before exiting the tub. Her first glance of the next entry gave a foreboding sense.
"Sunday, February 17th, 1157;
I am… shattered. Numb. I can barely even think. I'm not sure how much I will write here about it. I think I will just speak of my thoughts about it, rather than the… event that evokes the feelings within me. I would rather the words not be noted in ink for posterity, anyway. I would prefer to forget. (In fact, I must remember to tear this page out of this book and burn it after it is written).
So, I shall forget. I'll write of the feelings. Feelings of… I struggle with identifying them. There's so many, it's just a mass of confusion. There's horror. Fear. Rage. Fury, even!
I still hadn't said anything to Giles, then this happened and changed everything. I'm uncertain how to proceed, but I must handle this carefully. I'd like to somehow convince Giles of stepping up the number of sentry, but… how to suggest it without raising suspicion?
Or, does it matter? Yes, my husband's life was threatened. That is why I hesitate; but, now I think that vile man must pay, and if I tell Giles, he'll make the bastard pay. God knows one of us must. If my husband cannot, then I swear, I shall.
What a delightful thought… Yes, I think I can finally sleep on that thou — "
A sudden knock at the door startled her.
"You may enter only if your name is George of the House of Nottingham." Rhiannon called out.
The door opened and the Sheriff stepped inside. He stood near to the door.
"My lady, how can you see to read that book? The steam is thick in here." he commented while waving his hands in front of him, hoping fanning the air would clear it somehow.
"I can see well enough." Rhiannon said.
"Right. Well, you must be turning into a prune by now, Rhiannon. I've been in the chambers nearly an hour, and you've been occupied in here the entire time. I've a warm fire waiting for you, my lady. Also, just a quick word with the sentry outside the door, and food will arrive in no time." Nottingham explained.
"Perfect! Forgive me for keeping you. I didn't hear you, so I assumed I was still alone. I shall be out directly." she said.
He nodded and excited the bath chamber.
She closed her books, set them on the floor beside the tub, then immersed herself completely under the water before stepping out of the tub. She removed the soaked bath shirt and began to dry with a large fluffy towel, pondering the last entry she just read. She had an uneasy feeling about it, but anything she came up with was only speculation. Lady Aelesia didn't describe what happened, only how it affected her. Until she could learn more there was no use trying to guess what Lady Aelesia was referring to.
Or, Rhiannon wondered, could Lady Aelesia be referring to George's Auntie Evie? That could easily induce a murderous rage. She didn't even wish to ponder how she would possibly react if someone were to intentionally harm Robert or Isabelle. That is why she called off the wedding and distanced herself from her betrothed for a time. Until he finally knew the truth about Robert and made everything right, then she knew deeply in her soul he was, indeed, right for her.
She didn't know what could possibly have caused Lady Aelesia to have written that note, and even make mention of tearing the page out and burning it. Rhiannon could certainly guess whom the "vile man" was the lady was referring to, however.
Mordrid was an hour into his watch at the gates of the dungeon with Alfred. He was surprised when he noticed Ancel walking toward them.
"What is it, Ancel? Is everything alright?" Mordrid asked.
"It's fine. Just wondering if you men needed a quick reprieve?"
"Seriously?" Alfred asked as his eyes widened.
"No. I came all the way down here for a laugh." Ancel sighed. "Yes, I'm being serious."
"Listen, man. I don't know where you worked before, besides that shipyard, but I'm only an hour into my watch here. It's too soon for a reprieve." Mordrid explained. He scoffed.
"Former employer must have been a saint, or something? The bloke thinks we get frequent breaks!" Alfred chuckled.
Ancel scowled at him, to which Alfred cleared his throat, fidgeted, and looked downcast.
"Whom was he who was generous to his staff?" Mordrid asked.
"The Sheriff of Hampshire." Ancel said.
"And you wanted to come here?" Alfred retorted.
"Yes. Nothing much going on down there. Guess that's why we had time for breaks." Ancel said.
"Since you're here, did you see my fire striker and flint rock anywhere? I always carry them with me, but I don't have them. I'm wondering if I left them in that manor we found your stumpy friend in?" Mordrid asked Ancel, changing the topic.
"Former friend." Ancel corrected him. He shook his head and sighed. "You seem to have trouble holding onto things, Mordrid. First your bow and arrows, now this?" Ancel chuckled.
"The weapons were stolen. You know that! I don't know what happened to the other items. They're small and can easily be misplaced. That's why I'm asking you." Mordrid sighed.
"I haven't seen them. Last I saw them you were using them to make fire at the abandoned manor. I'm sure they'll turn up. Check all of your pockets." Ancel suggested.
"I did that. They're unaccounted for."
"I see. They must be at the manor, then." Ancel said. "Perhaps we can have a look tomorrow?"
"It's not an issue. I was only curious if you had noticed them left anywhere." Mordrid added.
"Good." Ancel said. He nodded behind the men, beyond the gate. "Is he settled in there, then?"
"About as settled as he could be." a beat. "We've got a few live ones in there." Alfred said with a smirk.
"I see." Ancel grinned, knowingly.
"I'll say! I'm getting a headache already." Mordrid commented while rolling his eyes.
"And you two are turning down my offer of covering you for a brief time." Ancel sighed.
"Did you clear that with the Sheriff first?" Alfred asked.
"No."
"Then, we must decline." Alfred said.
"Understood." Ancel nodded.
"Thanks for the offer, mate." Mordrid smiled.
"Anytime." Ancel nodded. He then turned and went on his way.
Sister Isemay turned toward the door when the knock occurred just after dusk. Father Tuttle opened it and nodded for the Nun to approach him there.
"How is the lass now?" the Priest asked in hushed tones, as he nodded toward the bed behind her.
"She's still quite weakened, Father. I think the bloodletting helped some, though. At least now I can get her to drink. That must be a good sign?" she pondered.
"It does seem reassuring, Sister. Yes. Now, what can you tell me about it? We didn't speak of the details earlier, because the priority was expediting the healer's arrival once you informed me she had been poisoned." Father Tuttle explained.
"When she first opened her eyes, she was able to say just a few words. She mentioned her name. Then, upon further questioning of her memory of what led her to the church, she said one word: Poison." the Nun said.
"I see. Was that all she said?" he pressed.
"No. I asked if she knew who did this to her. She said we all know him. So, I asked whom. She said the Sheriff of Nottingham, Father." Sister Isemay replied with an audible sigh.
"So, he's back to his old ways, I see. Although, the poisoning method is a new one. Seems rather tame considering whom we're talking about." Father Tuttle said as he slowly shook his head.
Sister Isemay nodded.
"What do we know of this lass? Anything?" Father Tuttle asked.
"Her name is Celest. I highly doubt she gave me an alias. She struggled to speak, was very weakened. I don't know how a person could remember to tell a lie in a state like that, Father."
"True. Alright, so we know her name. What else? Does she have a husband? Family? They must be worried sick. Where is she from? I've never laid eyes on her before." a beat. "Have you?"
"Never, Father Tuttle. I know nothing else about her. All I know is her name, and that she says the Sheriff poisoned her, and she's a very sick lass. That is all I can tell you just now, besides my careful observation of her, and following the recommendations of the healer."
"Very well. Hopefully she can tell us more on the morrow. She couldn't have just walked here, though? Fladius said he didn't see a horse. How in the world did she get here? Surely, she didn't just walk to the church, and then collapse?" Father Tuttle mused.
"Maybe someone found her like that and brought her to you, not knowing what else to do?" Sister Isemay suggested.
"We shall find out when she's well enough to tell us more. I need to know if I should be contacting her husband, and family, or if she is in need of sanctuary." a beat. "I don't like this. Not one bit. I've never trusted that man. He pretends to be changed whilst simultaneously making a mockery of holy matrimony. And now, this!" the Priest exclaimed, in a soft volume.
"He is not yet wed, Father. The Heralds announced it will be on November — "
"He's acting as if he were already wed. And the Bishop is agreeable to this farce!" he huffed.
"Not much we can do, Father. He was appointed, and he's friends with Prince John, they say." Sister Isemay reminded him.
"How we weren't granted a new Sheriff after the fiasco in ninety four is beyond me." Father Tuttle sighed.
"As I said, he's a friend of Prince John. No doubt the Prince gave a good word about him to the King when King Richard returned to England that year."
"Well, she shall be safe here. We will aid her recovery, and once she's well enough she shall be returned to her loved ones — unless she requires protection. You shall continue caring for her. I shall have a cot brought into this room for you to rest upon." the Priest said, firmly.
"As you wish, Father." Sister Isemay nodded.
Madam Birghiva was startled to see the Sheriff's Scribe standing outside the door again when she answered his knock.
"Twice in one day, Scribe. People might talk, you know!" Madam Birghiva chuckled. "I don't know if you can handle any of my gals; or… is it I you are after?" she grinned.
The Scribe sighed and pulled the scroll from the pocket of his cloak.
"The Sheriff asked me to deliver this to you, Madam." he announced while passing it to her.
"Interesting. Very well." the Madam nodded as she accepted the scroll.
He bowed his head, then turned and went on his way.
Madam Birghiva stood there a moment, lulled by the sound of the rain falling on the cobblestone path, and watched as the older man disappeared into the blurry darkness.
A short while later, she was meeting the Mistress in the office.
"Yes, Madam Birghiva. Is everything well?" Floria asked, curiously. She pushed a few stray blond tendrils from her face.
"From my perspective, yes. However, we've another missive from the Sheriff to read. It is addressed to us both, Missy." the Madam said.
"Oh, I see."
Madam Birghiva passed the scroll to Floria. She had already broken the seal as the Scribe didn't mention Floria when he gave it to her. The young maiden took it, unfurled it, and began to read.
"Monday, October 27th, 1197 Anno Domini.
Mistress Floria, and Madam Birghiva;
There shall be three others present at the meeting on the morrow. Not a word is to be spoken about Celestria — just so we're clear on the rules. Consider yourselves forewarned.
As I mentioned before, all is well. There's good reason for the meeting, but it has nothing to do with Celestria. The matter pertaining to her is strictly confidential.
Now, heed my instructions: Take this letter and burn it.
— Nottingham
Sheriff and Chief Constable."
Floria looked up while handing the scroll back to Madam Birghiva.
"What a confusing fellow. Look, are you certain he isn't trying to trick us? This letter has underlying ominous tones in it. What if… he's trying to reel us in? What if this is some kind of trap?" the Mistress asked, trepidatiously.
"No, my dear. I do not think that. I believe he just wanted to make it very clear about not discussing Celestria, ahead of being escorted by one of his men in the morning. The Knight isn't just going to turn his back, while one of us takes a moment to burn this." she said as she waved the scroll. "He wanted us to see this ahead of time, so that we would have no excuse not to carry out his instruction." Madam Birghiva reassured, as she gently placed her hand on the maiden's shoulder.
"Madam, with respect, how can you be so convinced? We know about his reputation. Heaven only knows how he dealt with Celestria." Floria sighed.
"He asked to see your finest creations, my dear. He's up to something, that is true; but, I do not think it's anything malicious."
"Maybe he thinks we would like to look our best while he has us hanged, or something? I don't know. I do know what he did to Robin Hood, and a few others around that time. And Gelldred told me he had one of his own men hung just last August!" Floria exclaimed in hushed tones.
"Gelldred flaps her lips about nonsense a little too frequently." a beat. "The word is that the reason the Knight was hanged was because he let a prisoner escape — the man responsible for the multiple maidens who were killed." Madam Birghiva said with a knowing quirk of her brow.
"I see." Floria said. Still, she was nervous about the meeting. She knew she would likely have trouble sleeping this night.
"You mustn't fret, Missy. You've done nothing wrong. He has no reason to arrest us, or punish us."
"If you say so… " Floria sighed softly, then looked downcast.
"Have you decided which of your gowns you shall wear tomorrow? You were undecided when you were showing them to me earlier." the Madam asked, hopeful the topic change would serve to distract Floria from her current bout of unnecessary worry.
"Yes. The one you like, Madam. The entire, perfectly coordinated ensemble." Floria smiled.
"Perfect, my dear!" the Madam exclaimed, excitedly.
"Aye. And a perfect compliment to your choice, as well, Madam." Floria said.
"Indeed. As I said, I've no idea what business the Sheriff has with us, but I've no doubt that he shall appreciate your handiwork."
"You're seriously not somewhat unnerved by some of his wording in that letter?" Floria asked, nodding to the scroll in the Madam's hand.
"No. And you mustn't be, either, my dear. Come. Let's go and enjoy some warm mead with extra honey — just the way you like it. You best have a generous libation. You need your rest tonight, Floria. I want you at your best when we meet with him. I've a feeling whatever this is, is rather important." Madam Birghiva wisely suggested.
"Very well, Madam. Some warm honeyed mead would be welcome just now." Floria smiled.
As the rain fell outside the windows, the wind blowing through threatening to extinguish the flames of the torches and candles; the Sheriff and Lady Rhiannon were just finishing the hearty mutton and veal stew that Jean Louis had sent them via the servants, along with bread, cheese, and fruit.
"You never did tell me how your meeting fared, my sweet." Rhiannon said as she took a bite of cheese, followed by a sip of water from her goblet.
"It went better then expected, my lady. All is well. My men have accomplished the mission." he said with a smile.
"Oh, great! So, the danger is over, then? No more scary fellows running about?" she pressed.
"Well, yes. For now." he parried.
"What does that mean?"
"The man is one to watch. I've extra sentry on night duty guarding the dungeon. It won't be safe until he's properly dealt with." Nottingham said with a quirk of his brow.
"I see. Well, that's some good news, then." Rhiannon said.
"Indeed, my lady." he agreed as he sipped of his brandy.
"I guess I was hopeful this meant you'd ease up on my restrictions." she sighed.
"We've been over this, Rhiannon. There's a lot more to it than that. There's also the matter of you being too far away from professionals who know what to do should anything go awry. Professionals like Thomas Crumwell, Lady Margaret, and — " he stopped himself there. Was now the best time to mention it?
"And whom, George?" Rhiannon pressed as she put some cheese on a piece of soft bread. She marvelled at it once she tasted it.
"Well… Lady Isabelle, as it turns out." he smiled ruefully.
"Wait… my sister in law?"
"Yes, my angel."
"Isabelle — a professional? In what way? And why am I only finding this out now?" she asked, rather bewildered by this revelation.
"Your brother told me she has experience assisting ladies to bring forth babies, my angel. She's done this a few times, so, not nearly at the level of the other two — "
"That explains it. She often shows concern and offers advice regarding my health. Like telling me sitting on a bench reading is no good for my back right now. It's starting to make sense." Rhiannon sighed, then took a sip of water.
"Rhiannon, Lady Isabelle has offered to assist you in any way you see fit when the time comes. Her stipulation is that the decision is completely yours." Nottingham explained.
"I see. Well, I shall be delighted to have her help. She has knowledge, and she is family. I trust and respect her. Indeed, I shall tell her myself, my love." Rhiannon smiled.
"Splendid, my lady. The more people who know what they're doing the better. Zeus knows I wouldn't be of any use." he sighed.
"Of course you would, my love. You already have done, once. You would be useful during the beginning part of it. You could talk to me, help distract — "
"Wait… what do you mean about the beginning part? How the hell long does it take?" Nottingham asked as his eyes widened.
"Lady Margaret says it can take a good while, especially with the first child; yet, for some reason, she doesn't think I shall be too long about it. I wonder why?" Rhiannon mused.
"Perhaps because you keep yourself active, my lady?" he lied. Obviously, the midwife was under the impression that only the first child took some time, but this wasn't the first child. "You are the fittest lady I've ever known." he added.
"Perhaps that is true, that staying active helps… expedite things."
"That's good to know." he said as he set the goblet on the table beside him. And it was the truth. He would prefer she not have to suffer at all, but if it could be shortened, it was certainly preferable.
"What if Isabelle accompanied me sometime on a visit to my man — " Rhiannon began to suggest, but was cut off.
"No, my dear." the Sheriff said, flatly.
"She's a professional, as you say. I haven't ridden my Sugerstar, or been to my manor in — "
"Your… what, my lady?"
"Sugarstar. My horse." she sighed, then took a sip of water before continuing. "Am I the only one who named their horse?"
"It would seem, my lady." he said with a knowing grin. Then, he straightened his expression. "That is still a no, incidentally."
"I wouldn't be gone long." she added.
"After we're wed I shall accompany you myself. I will protect you if need be, or if something should happen I can get you here faster. You'd be in no condition to ride on your own, Rhiannon, and I doubt Lady Isabelle has much experience with horses. Thomas lives close to us, I can get him here to you in no time at all."
"I'd really like to ride my hor — "
"No, Rhiannon. My decision is firm." he said as he arose and went to her.
"Very well." she relented.
"How is it coming with the book, my lady? You seem quite riveted by it. You are reading it voraciously, yet… you don't seem any closer to the end of it — oddly." the Sheriff remarked, with his eyebrow quirked.
"It's quite fascinating." Rhiannon commented, a little too hurriedly.
"I can see that. How is it you're always reading from the dead centre of the book? That's what I don't get. The pages never seem to turn." he pointed out to her, suspiciously.
The Sheriff had noticed that earlier when he saw her reading in the bath chamber. It occurred to him when he left her, she should have been further along in the book than she was. Then, he realized she often appeared to be reading from the same place in the book — the middle of it.
"Yes. Well… what happens in the middle of the story is crucial. It's complex, as well. Sometimes, I… find I must refer back to it to stay on course." Rhiannon said.
Truthfully, she had already forgotten so much of the story now due to the distraction of Lady Aelesia's journal, that she would have to start reading it again from the beginning to get anything from the tale of Erec and Enide.
"Interesting. You're quite astute, so, I guess I never imagined that a work of fiction could be so elaborate and complicated." the Sheriff said as he sat down beside her on the sofa.
"Oh, sugar. Those are the best stories to get lost in!" Rhiannon beamed. Then, she attempted to conceal a frown.
And now, I'm lost in your mother's own story, my love. And I wish it were fiction instead of a true account from her perspective… it's starting to get too real. Perhaps I should take a break from it? I need to tell him of the journal, but… how?
He detected the sudden change in her expression, notwithstanding.
"What is it, my lady? You turned pale for a second. As if you'd seen a ghost."
"It is nothing. All is well." Rhiannon smiled.
Except it was like she had seen a ghost. She was reading the haunting words of her betrothed's long deceased mother. Haunting was a fitting description of the journal.
"You're shivering, my lady. This time, it makes more sense. Your hair is wet, and despite the flames burning everywhere in the room, the damp air is felt. I must get you warm." Nottingham said.
"Perhaps you're right. I do feel a little chill." she agreed.
Sometime later, after the servants had cleared the dishes from the den, they were reclined under the blanket on the bed, both looking at the fire in the fireplace as they drew warmth from each other.
Rhiannon nestled against him, running her hands slowly over his silk tunic. He consistently had a pleasing scent about him. She'd never noticed this from any other man before. Of course, the only ones she'd ever embraced where she would notice such a thing were her father, her brothers, and her sweet Uncle Edmund.
"I feel content and safe here with you, George… " she whispered. "However, don't you think it's better if I return to my manor until we are wed?"
Nottingham looked over to her with a quirk of his brow, suspiciously regarding her. He opened his mouth to respond, but wasn't fast enough. He was also surprised as only a few moments ago she appeared rather sleepy.
"We've been domiciled together as a man and wife would for some time now." Rhiannon began as she sat forward and faced him. "You know how people are, George. Most are quite pious, and it might bode better for us in the community, and especially for you as Sheriff of Nottingham, if we continue a little more… prudently." Rhiannon suggested.
At this point, his jaw was threatening to gape. He stifled that response with more than a few eye expressions involving widening, then narrowing, then finishing with a quirk of his left eyebrow. He looked away for a split second, then looked directly into her eyes.
"Isn't it a little late for that, Rhiannon?" Nottingham finally spoke. "There was no choice but to bring you here. It was for your protection, my lady. The only people who know which chambers you stay in are the people who matter. Now, there's even more reason for you to remain in this castle."
"George — "
"Rhiannon, listen to me." he said as he reached for her hands and held them gently. "It's truly safer right now for you to remain here. There's only two things I fear — anything happening to either you or our child; and failing either one of you as a husband, and father."
"My love, you could never! You treat me like a princess, and I already know you'll be a fine father." Rhiannon smiled.
"I appreciate that, my angel. Look, if it's important to you, I could move to another chamber close by. I would prefer you to remain here, with sentry posted, and Thomas Crumwell at a closer proximity to you." the Sheriff said.
"Very well. I do not wish to worry you, so, I will concede to that."
"Good." he nodded.
"I just… worry a little what people would say. It's important for you to maintain decorum, and have the public's confidence. We live in a time where everyone except us are highly religious."
"My lady, the only person we need to make this happen is the Bishop. He has already agreed to perform the ceremony. No matter what anyone thinks of it, we shall be husband and wife in the eyes of the church and laws of the land." a beat. "Do not give another moment's thought to this. There's so many good things in store for us, I promise you." the Sheriff said, softly.
"Thank you, my love. I shall try not to think of it. I just don't want… people to think I'm a whore. You're the only man I've been… so close to. You're the only man I'll ever love." she explained.
"My lady… you mustn't think that. You are a true lady, never… that. There were extenuating circumstances that brought you to this castle to stay. I wouldn't have it any other way." Nottingham said.
"Alright… "
"My dearest heart, promise me you won't give this another thought." the Sheriff urged her.
"I shall try, my sweet." Rhiannon nodded.
"Come. Rest, my lady. Lean into me and close your eyes while I hold you next to me. This might be the last night for such luxury until our wedding night — unless you change your mind regarding us staying in separate quarters."
"Yes, my love. You're right." Rhiannon said. She eased back against the pillows and resumed the previous position of nestling close to him.
"You are evermore the lady of my heart; and I shall protect you… always." he whispered as he softly stroked her cheek, burning his amber hazel eyes into hers.
"My love, your eloquence always astounds me." she began with a contented sigh. "You keep yourself safe, George. You must never be harmed, or… worse. I lived without you once. It was horrible." she pleaded, quietly. Even though she knew one could never promise such a thing.
"I will do my utmost. I will never leave you, or our child." Nottingham vowed.
"I know, my love. I am grateful." she smiled.
He softly kissed her cheek, then kissed the corner of her mouth, wanting more, yet controlling himself from pursuing any further.
"George… " she whispered.
"Sleep, my lady. All is well." he whispered.
She sighed happily and succumbed to sleep a few minutes later.
Nottingham continued to hold her while staring toward the flames in the fireplace. His eyelids began to grow heavy, but as he closed his eyes he saw myriad images flash in his mind. Rhiannon dressed like a bloke in perfectly tailored black leather, shooting an arrow at her target; the poisoning of Celestria and carrying her body to a nearby church; finally having Homely Hamon in the dungeon. Then, he saw the face of his son, and finally he drifted off to sleep.
He awoke with a start only a few hours later. He had been dreaming of her. Now his need for her was heightened.
Rhiannon looked up at him, for she awakened when his body jerked beside her.
"My love, all is well. It was only a dream." she whispered.
"The best dream." he said, softly.
"Funny. You reacted as if it were a nightmare instead."
"Ah, but it's only a nightmare if it never comes true." the Sheriff whispered.
"Alright. You must sleep, my love." she whispered.
"Yes, we both should. However, the word 'should' is used mostly by dull people, my lady. We aren't dull." he hinted with a quirk of his brow.
"Well, it appears you're quite alert now." Rhiannon sighed. "Let me guess. You want to have another dance session?"
"In a manner of speaking… " he whispered, evasively.
"Right. Let me throw on my boots, then." she said as she shot up from the bed and turned to leave it.
He put his hand on her shoulder, then softly caressed the length of her arm. She sat still, then slowly turned around to face him.
"Not that kind of dance, my lady." the Sheriff whispered as he looked deeply into her eyes.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes. Come here." he whispered as he pulled her in close to him.
Rhiannon relaxed in his embrace.
"I will be gentle, my angel. It's the only way, but I need you." he whispered as he kissed her softly, and openly, then moved his lips to her jaw, and down her neck.
"Take all of me… " she whispered while touching him intimately.
And so he did, as carefully and gently as he could. He needed her, but he also needed her to stay healthy. They were finally coupled after a frustrating amount of time apart in this manner. At the end of it, he held her and caressed her shoulder.
"Feeling better, my lady?" he asked.
"Of course, my sweet. It's been a long while. I needed you, too." she murmured.
"We must try to exercise some control for awhile. Anything to keep you safe." he said.
"I know. It's hard to suppress that at times, though." she sighed.
"I agree. However, we need to be responsible to our child, my lady. You understand." the Sheriff said, firmly.
"Yes, of course. I'm just thankful something sparked within you, because I was beginning to feel a little defeated." Rhiannon admitted, softly.
"My angel, there is always a spark when I'm in your presence. I make an effort to control it. All I need to do is picture you in the near future giving birth, and it works every time." he smirked.
"I see. I suppose that's where we differ. For me, I'm working hard in an effort not to think at all of what's to come. Instead, I'm concentrating on the here and now." Rhiannon whispered.
He sat up and looked down upon her, while fastening the laces on his silk tunic. He could read between the lines of everything she just said. He didn't like it. In his mind, she just expressed in so many words that she fears childbirth. He frowned.
"You fear it, don't you?" Nottingham asked, directly.
"I can't imagine how any woman wouldn't fear giving birth, George." Rhiannon began as she sat forward and pulled her dressing gown closer about her. " No one speaks of it. The ladies I've tried to speak about it with invariably reply that it hurts, but not to worry because it's worth the trouble." she said with a shrug. "Doesn't sound like it's at all pleasant if none of them will speak of it."
"My lady, no one speaks of anything that personal with mere acquaintances." he reminded her.
"You'd think with something as important as this the ladies could prepare some of us with a little more to go on than, "it hurts", wouldn't you agree?" she pressed.
"I don't know, Rhiannon. I'm not a lady. I can't begin to imagine what goes on inside a lady's mind, so I can't comment."
"No. Indeed, you are not, and I'm grateful for that." she smiled as she leaned closer toward him.
"It is I who is grateful, my lady — that you are devoted and accept me as I am." he said softly, as he caressed her left cheek with his right hand.
"I do. Of course, I do." she whispered. "If I didn't, then what exactly is love?"
He quirked his brow, surprised by her spot on response.
"A very good point, my angel." he smiled, then cleared his throat. "You should rest. I woke you from a sound sleep with my sudden awakening."
"I'm glad you did, sugar. Yes, you're right. Perhaps we should both try to rest now." she said.
"You lay back down, my dear. The fire is diminishing in the fireplace. I'll get it going again, then return to you at once." the Sheriff suggested.
Lady Rhiannon leaned in closer still and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes, softly sighing at the end of it.
"Very well. I shall be waiting." she smiled.
Lady Rhiannon was soon asleep, as the Sheriff tended to the fire, urging embers to ignite some tinder. He smiled to himself as he thought of how they pleased each other. He had missed her touch.
He shook his head as the tinder began to burn, remembering he needed to restrain himself for the good of her and the child's health. He added kindling to the flames, then looked over at her, pleased to see her sleeping soundly. Perhaps this was a good sign that pain wouldn't recommence? He frowned. It was too soon to tell. It was several hours later when she felt pain the last time.
All he could do now was be observant, and notify Thomas, first and foremost, at the first sign of trouble. Yet he knew he shouldn't dwell on it, either. Luckily, he had quite a few items on his agenda to take care of to distract him.
Nottingham wanted to make sure that she would respond well and avoid labour for a period of time before he attempted to inform her — yet again, about their son. This would afford him some time to contemplate how to put it into action.
In the meantime, there were plenty of items to keep him occupied. He added a log to the fire then returned to the bed to join his beloved.
The Sheriff looked over at her after reclining back to the pillows. He was reassured to note her serene expression, and felt relaxed enough to finally fall asleep. He was content and at peace, and slept better than he had in recent memory.