The Robber Knight's Love

by Robert Thier

  Ayla! She was waiting for him.

  A grin spread across his face. Everything was working out exactly as he had planned. He would bring back her horse, and she would fall weeping into his arms, brimming over with thankfulness.

  Suddenly, the white figure disappeared from the battlements. Reuben hoped that meant those damn castle gates would open soon. It would be a poor end to his adventure if, after rescuing his lady's beloved horse, he would be slaughtered in front of said lady's castle because she hadn't opened her gates quickly enough.

  “Hüa![6] To the left, Satan!” With a violent tug on the reins, Reuben turned the stallion on the narrow mountain path that led up the Luntberg to the gates of the castle. Behind him, he could hear angry shouts as the army pursuing him tried to fit onto a path meant for only a few men to walk abreast.

  And yet, in spite of that, some of his enemies seemed to be catching up. When Reuben looked back again, he could see a few riders advancing up the path towards him. Unlike himself, they wore only light armor, and their horses, though inferior to his, were not as tired by the weight. He measured the distance with narrowed eyes. Yes, they were definitely catching up.

  He looked ahead again. Still several hundred feet to go to the gates.

  Glancing back at the riders after a moment or two, he could see that they had already halved the distance. Normally, Reuben would not have been worried by this. He was confident of defeating any foe. But these riders bore bows, and even the most miserable archer could shoot him with an arrow if he was just a few feet away. He had to move faster!

  “Come on, Satan, you old devil! Show me your fiery wings!” Reuben pressed his spurs into the flanks of the stallion. Snorting, the black beast gave him his best effort, sprinting up the hill at a pace that hardly seemed possible for such a massive animal. Still, the enemy was gaining. And the gates, Reuben noted with dismay, still hadn't opened. What was Ayla playing at?

  Then, he heard the voice, ringing out over the clamor of the army behind him: “Open the gates! Open the gates, man!”

  He smiled to himself as he heard the creaking of ropes and the squeal of metal. The portcullis was being lifted. He always knew his plan would work. Now he only had to live long enough to see its completion!

  Another arrow whizzed past him, closer this time. Reuben paid it no heed. He was just about a hundred feet away from the gates now, which were slowly swinging open. Behind them, in the courtyard beyond, he could see flickering torchlight illuminating a maiden with golden hair. He had no mind for any enemies anymore.

  As if feeling Reuben's triumph, Satan redoubled his efforts and raced up the rest of the mountain at a prodigious speed, flying between the open gates like an avenging angel. Eleanor came close behind, and the angry shouts of Reuben’s pursuers mingled with the creak of hinges as the gates closed behind him and the portcullis slammed down.

  Yes!

  Triumphantly, Reuben reigned in his horse—and suddenly found himself surrounded by a ring of steel. More than a dozen guards had gathered in the courtyard, and all were pointing their guisarmes at him. Though they were the ones holding the weapons, not he, all of their faces resembled those of frightened children.

  And for good reason, thought Reuben darkly. He looked around and spotted Ayla. She was standing a bit farther back, next to another guard who was holding a torch aloft.

  “Milady?” He nodded to her. “If you would be so kind as to clear up this little misunderstanding and tell your friends here to put away their weapons?”

  “Take off your helmet,” she said in a slightly hoarse voice. “This time, I want to be sure. I want to see your face.”

  Without another word, he reached up and unfastened the leather straps holding his helmet in place. When he removed it and proudly raised his head, so unmistakable with its wild black hair, strong chin, and scimitar-shaped scar, gasps could be heard from all around.

  “Reuben the merchant?” whispered one of the soldiers, slowly lowering his weapon.

  “Not quite,” said Ayla in a toneless voice, stepping forward. “Climb down from your horse, Sir Knight.”

  Again, gasps escaped the assembled crowd.

  “Knight?” could be heard in low voices all around. “Did she say knight?”

  Ayla paid them no heed. She continued towards Reuben, the soldiers parting before her like the Red Sea before Moses. Reuben climbed from his horse and strode towards her, a grin on his face which was, perhaps, a tiny bit cocky. Now it was time for his reward! What would he get from Ayla for his demonstration of heroism? A tearful apology, maybe? A few caresses? A kiss, even? There were so many possibilities…

  He made a little bow to her, more of a nod, really. “I have brought you back the horse which you had…misplaced,” he said, still grinning, pointing to Eleanor.

  Ayla had stopped a couple of paces away from him.

  “I can see that,” she said in a small voice.

  Everyone was watching the two of them. Reuben was rather enjoying himself. This was going to be good. Maybe he would even get more out of her than a kiss. But then he would have to take her to some place more private…Yes, there definitely were many possibilities.

  “Reuben?” she said.

  “Yes, Milady?” he said, raising an eyebrow. What was she waiting for?

  Then, suddenly, she rushed towards him. “Reuben!”

  She raised her arm as if to embrace him. Reuben stepped towards her eagerly, although, somewhere in the back of his mind, an alarm bell started ringing. This scene was slightly familiar, wasn't it?

  Then he noticed why it appeared familiar: her arm was aimed slightly too high for an embrace. It was also moving a bit too forcefully for such a tender purpose.

  It looked like she wanted to…but she couldn't, could she? Not again?

  Rewards of Bravery

  SMACK!

  Ayla's blood-stained hand connected with Reuben's face and left bloody streaks in its wake. He stiffened, blinking down at her in amazement. Had the world gone mad? She was supposed to be kissing him all over and thanking him on bended knee!

  Instead, Ayla grabbed him by the collar and tried to shake him. Since he was about twice as massive as she was, he stood rock-steady while she ended up shaking herself, but that didn't seem to lessen her enthusiasm.

  “You stupid, stupid fool!” she yelled. “You thrice-blasted idiot! You doddering halfwit! Have you completely lost your mind? Do you have any idea how dangerous that little adventure of yours was? You could have gotten yourself killed! You are the most empty-headed, idiotic man alive!”

  Tears had started running down Ayla’s cheeks. The surrounding soldiers discreetly turned and looked in other directions, suddenly very interested in brick walls and pigeons roosting on the castle roof.

  Not that Reuben cared in the least what they were doing. He was too busy trying to figure out what to do now. At the moment, he didn’t have a clue. In all his wildest imaginings, he hadn't thought of such an outcome. Ayla had been angry with him for stealing her horse, hadn't she? Well, now he had returned it. She should be happy. So why, by Satan’s hairy ass, was she crying and shouting at him?

  Maybe she hadn’t noticed her horse yet.

  “I brought you back your mare,” he stated in a somewhat injured tone, pointing to the mare who was busy sidling up to Satan.

  “I'm not blind! What were you thinking?”

  Reuben put his fists on his hips. So she had noticed it. But then, what in all seven hells was the matter with her? Slowly but surely, he could feel his temper rising. “Well, actually, I was thinking you would be happy!”

  “Happy? Have you lost your mind, you big ox?”

  “No, but maybe you have!”

  All right, maybe his temper had sped up a bit…

  “Don't you dare talk to me like that!”

  “And don't you dare talk to me like that!”

  The two of them were only two inches apart from one another now and shouting at the top of their lungs. In some
small, remaining rational part of his mind that wasn't consumed by fury, Reuben had to admit that one simply had to admire the strength of Ayla's vocal cords. She could easily keep up with him in the shouting department.

  Threateningly, she held up a finger and put it right under his nose. “You can't tell me what to say in my own castle!”

  “It won't be your castle for much longer, if you continue the way you're doing.”

  “What? You insolent, arrogant…What?”

  The last word was directed at a guard, who had cautiously approached Lady Ayla and tapped her on the shoulder with the strength of a butterfly’s wing, as if he thought she might explode at any moment. She rounded on him, blue fire sparking in her eyes. If Reuben hadn’t been so enraged at her, he might have spent some thought on how beautiful they looked.

  “Err…nothing, Milady.” The guard shrank back. “It's just…my comrades on the wall up there,” he pointed up to where the archers were stationed, “still stand there with their bows drawn. They were told to hold, and they've been holding it for about five minutes now. But they say their arms are growing tired, and sent me down here to ask if they could lower their bows, otherwise they might let go and accidentally shoot someone.”

  “Yes, yes!” Ayla waved him away. “Tell them to lower their weapons or shoot at pigeons, if they want to. I don’t care.” She returned her full attention to Reuben. “You!” she hissed, pointing first at his chest, then up to the keep. “You go back and stay in your room. And don't you dare do another foolish thing like that or I will have you tied upside down to a laundry line and beaten with wet linens by all the castle’s washerwomen, understood?”

  Reuben’s mouth dropped wide open. Was she serious?

  “I would prefer to be hanged by my neck as you promised before,” he growled.

  “Don't tempt me! Now go!”

  If it had been anybody else talking to him like this, as if he were an impudent little schoolboy, Reuben would have drawn his sword and made a quick and bloody end of the matter. As it was, he was still tempted to lay her over his knee and give her a good hiding. Instead, he simply turned on the spot and marched off in the direction of his chambers.

  As he threw a glance back over his shoulder, just before walking through the inner gate, he saw Ayla rushing to her mare and hugging the horse fiercely, kissing it upon the brow. Ah, now she was glad he had rescued her miserable old nag? But she couldn't tell him so to his face? And the kiss he’d expected as thanks she preferred to bestow on that four-legged beast? Bah!

  Women! Whatever possessed God to make them?

  *~*~**~*~*

  Reuben was lying on his bed with his arms crossed behind his head, trying to burn holes into the opposite wall by the fiery force of his eyes alone, when somebody knocked at the door.

  “Go to hell!” he shouted and continued his glowering.

  Whoever was outside either had bad hearing or was very, very brave, for in spite of his warning, the door opened. For a moment, his eyes flitted from the wall to the figure in the door. Ah, the timid little brown-haired maid. So it had probably been bad hearing.

  “I said,” he intoned, every word like a freshly sharpened knife, “Go. To. Hell!”

  “I heard you the first time,” the maid answered and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

  “Well, then that raises a question: are you courageous or simply suicidal?”

  “Neither. I am to bring you your breakfast.” She held up a steaming bowl of soup.

  Reuben looked to the window, through which faint morning light was shining. Yes, the next day had come. He had been so busy being angry at Ayla, her horse, her castle, her servants, and everything else in the world that was remotely connected with her that he hadn't noticed. Well, why should he have bothered?

  “I don’t want it. Throw it away!” He gave the girl his best hellish scowl. Contrary to his expectations, she quivered under his gaze, but did not flee.

  “We are being besieged,” she told him, her voice small but steady. “There is not enough food for us to live two months, and you would have me throw this away?” She advanced towards him and put the bowl in front of him on the bed. “You will eat. It is Milady's wish, and so you will eat.”

  “Oh, of course!” Reuben's scowl deepened. “If Milady wishes it, we must all jump and do as she commands. Milady is perfect. Milady is never wrong.”

  In spite of his words, he took the spoon and tasted the soup. To his annoyance, it tasted quite good—plus, he was famished. He had left the castle more than a day ago. It had taken him quite a while to find a way through the enemy's defenses, and he hadn't eaten a bite all that time. Pride was all very well, but an empty stomach seemed rather more important at the moment. So he started to spoon the soup at an impressive speed. When he looked up, the maid was still standing there.

  “What now?” he growled.

  The girl swallowed. “She's really glad to have you back safe, you know,” she said, her voice even smaller than before.

  Reuben's spoon halted in mid-air.

  There was no need for him to ask who the “she” was. Suddenly, all the anger and frustration went out of him. He looked up at the young maid with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “Then why is she so angry with me? I got her horse back. I thought that was what she wanted.”

  The maid shook her head, a smile playing around her lips. “Don't you see?”

  “No, I'm damned if I do! I've been sitting here, trying to puzzle out the meaning of her antics for hours!”

  The maid sighed and shook her head again, as if speaking to a child who had missed something obvious. “There are only a few things in this world more dear to Lady Ayla than that mare. If she’s angry with you for risking your life to save her, there can be only one reason: obviously, you are one of those things.”

  She curtsied and turned to go, leaving Reuben behind with his mouth open and his thoughts in disarray.

  *~*~**~*~*

  Ayla hugged and hugged Eleanor until her arms hurt. Then she led her to the stables and busied herself checking her beloved friend for any injuries, combing her down, and otherwise making sure she was perfectly happy and comfortable. The familiar activity both set her mind at rest and helped keep it off a certain infuriating male person.

  “Are you all right, my girl? Really all right?” Tenderly, she stroked Eleanor's glossy coat, and the horse whinnied in appreciation.

  “I bet the bad men in that camp treated you horribly and you're glad to be back home, aren't you?” Sliding her hand into her belt bag, Ayla pulled out an apple. “Look what I have here. It was supposed to be my breakfast, but I think you deserve a treat after all you've been through, don't you?”

  Horses, the happy creatures, luckily do not suffer from afflictions such as a guilty conscience. Eleanor snapped up her mistress’s breakfast and devoured it with relish. Ayla laughed and hugged her friend again, tears coming to her eyes.

  “Oh, I'm so glad to have you back.”

  In answer, Eleanor, who was by now finished with chewing the apple, started to chew on Ayla's sleeve, a great sign of affection. It also happened to be a rather expensive one, considering the number of chewed-up dresses Ayla had already had to get rid of in the past, but she was so overjoyed to have Eleanor back that she let her chew all she wanted.

  Suddenly, Ayla felt a soft nose touch her back. She turned, expecting to see one of the stable horses that had somehow gotten out of its bay—but instead, she saw the huge, black stallion Reuben had ridden up to the castle. The beast seemed to want to get past her for some reason.

  “Just as annoying as its master,” she grumbled and stepped out of the way. The black stallion trotted past her and straight to Eleanor’s side. Without waiting for any sign, he licked her ears and then rested his neck on hers possessively.

  “You…” Ayla was prepared to save her dear friend from this indecent harassment when Eleanor started rubbing her neck against the stallion's head and nic
kering softly. Ayla clapped her hand in front of her mouth, then poked Eleanor in the ribs. “Behave yourself!” she hissed through her fingers.

  But Eleanor just looked at her with big, black, soulful eyes and cocked her head, as if to ask, “What's the harm?”

  Ayla put her hands on her hips. “You're shameless, you know? You could do a lot better!”

  Eleanor's eyes became even more soulful, and she nudged Ayla softly with her nose. For a few moments, Ayla managed to keep up her outraged expression—then she burst out laughing. Her first, honest, clear laugh in a good long time.

  “Oh, you!” She ruffled her mare’s mane with both hands. “You're crazy, do you know that? All right, all right, you can keep him—for now! But behave yourself, or I will have to engage a chaperon for you, understand?”

  Eleanor just started nibbling on her sleeve again.

  *~*~**~*~*

  The reunion with her friend had been wonderful. Once she had left the stable and Eleanor's soothing presence, however, Ayla's mirth soon ceased, and her troubles started crashing down on her again.

  The siege.

  The impending famine.

  And most of all, Reuben.

  Exhausted from the night's anxiety, she sat down on a bale of hay outside the stables and watched the sun rise over the castle walls. It was big, and pink, and looked disturbingly romantic to Ayla's eye.

  Yesterday, everything had been so simple. Yesterday, she had known, with every fiber of her being, that Reuben was a villain, a cur, a thief, and a traitor, that he had never loved her, and she should avoid him like the plague. Yesterday, her heart had been broken, but at least the world had been simple. Yesterday, she had known her duty and not feared the impending doom of the enemy army, for it would bring an end to her pain.

  Yesterday was over.

  Today, the sweetly smelling, yet potentially poisonous flower of hope blossomed in Ayla's heart. Reuben hadn't fled and abandoned her as she had feared. Instead, he had gone out and brought back her beloved mare, had sneaked into the enemy camp to wrench Eleanor from the evil clutches of the Margrave von Falkenstein, and had risked his life in the process, the silly idiot!