The Robber Knight's Love

by Robert Thier

  The morning's elation at having Reuben as the official commander of her forces had long passed. What could he do? True, from what he had hinted here and there, he had enormous experience in battle. But they were trapped. How could it make a difference?

  “What did you say, Milady?” the scout asked.

  “Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing.” She waved the question away. “You have done your work very well. I'm proud of you. Go and get some rest.”

  The young man beamed and hurried off, not forgetting to bow to her twice.

  As he went out, Reuben came in. Hurriedly, the scout bowed five more times and ran for the hills.

  “You seem to be having quite an effect on my servants,” Ayla remarked, her mouth twitching.

  Reuben grinned that devil’s grin that made her heart melt and took one of her hands in his.

  “Can you blame them?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered, breathlessly.

  They stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, searching. Ayla, for her part, found all she was looking for, and more. There was feeling there, in the thunderous depth of gray. Feeling for her, she was almost sure. Almost.

  Oh, why had he not told her again? If he told her again that he loved her, now that she knew he meant it, she would fall into his arms and her world would be perfect, even if she knew they were all going to die tomorrow.

  Well, maybe not quite perfect, but considerably better, at least.

  Reuben cocked his head. “So…you approve of your new commander?”

  She nodded silently, not being able to find the words to answer him.

  “Then why do you want to deal with that bastard of a traitor yourself?” he asked. “Why won't you leave the task to me?”

  Ayla tensed. It was time.

  “He is here?”

  “Yes, he has been brought up into the keep, just as you requested.”

  “Did anybody see him?”

  “I said 'just as you requested'. You requested that nobody would see him. So nobody saw him. I am very thorough, Milady.”

  “I believe that.”

  “Then why do you want to see him yourself? Why won't you let me deal with him?” Reuben’s eyes narrowed.

  “Reuben…” Ayla paused, trying to phrase this as diplomatically as possible. “If I let you ‘deal with him,’ as you put it, what would you do?”

  “The first thing on my list,” he answered without hesitation, “would be beating him into a bloody pulp.”

  “I see,” Ayla said, nodding to herself. She had expected nothing less. “And that is exactly why I can't let you deal with him.”

  Reuben sighed. “You have far too gentle a heart for this world. Has anybody ever told you that?”

  “No. But it is very sweet of you.”

  “It was supposed to be an insult!” he growled.

  Quickly, before she could stop herself, Ayla stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss on Reuben's cheek. He stood there, stunned, staring at her without saying a word.

  “I thought it was a nice compliment. Now bring him in already,” Ayla said, blushing. “Your liege lady has other things to do today.”

  For a moment, Reuben didn’t move. He just stood there, devouring her with his eyes. Then he unfroze, giving a slight bow.

  “Yes, Milady.”

  Turning, he marched out of the room.

  Ayla settled down in her father's chair again and waited. Her good mood evaporated as soon as Reuben was out of sight, and the sweet song of love in her heart was replaced by a far more frightening melody.

  She knew what was to come. Justice.

  And she also knew who would have to dispense it. The liege lady.

  A few more tense moments of waiting passed. Finally, the doors to the hall were thrown open, and two guards entered. Between them, limp and helpless in his chains, hung the figure of Hans, the traitor.

  Justice

  Hans had deteriorated considerably during his night in the dungeon. He was dirty, his eyes had a haunted look about them, and the chains, although Ayla had taken care to have them freed of rust, had left red welts on his wrists and ankles.

  Without much care, the two guards dragged him before Lady Ayla and forced him down to the floor. Ayla had to restrain herself from jumping up from her seat and helping the man to his feet. Seeing anyone cowering in front of her on the floor like that, like some sort of slave…

  He betrayed you, she forced herself to remember, concentrating on the bitter fact as hard as she could. He betrayed everybody you care about. You cannot feel pity for him. You must judge him.

  But she also remembered her secret conversation with the traitor down in the dungeon, and she remembered his reasons for the betrayal: three reasons, which, to him, eclipsed the rest of world. His family. His everything.

  For a moment, Ayla wondered what it would be like to have children. Would she go as far in protecting them? An image appeared in her mind of Reuben, holding her in her arms together with a tiny bundle wrapped in white linen blankets. Her heart ached at the image, and when she looked at Hans again, there was no anger in her, only sadness.

  “Greetings, Hans,” she said.

  The man on the floor bowed his head until it touched the cold stone.

  “Greetings, Milady. Have you brought me here to pass judgment on me?” He sounded as though he had been expecting it.

  Ayla hesitated, and that hesitation seemed to terrify Hans. He crept forward a few inches.

  “Please, Milady, I don't care if it's quick or slow, but please, don't let my wife and children see it. Don't make them watch. I don't want them to see it, please.”

  “See what?” Ayla asked, her brow furrowed, her sadness momentarily driven away by confusion.

  Hans seemed no less confused.

  “Well…my execution, of course.”

  “Execution? I'm not going to execute you!”

  “You aren't? But down in the dungeon, you said…”

  “I said that I could execute you, not that I would! I was angry, and upset, and didn't…” her voice dwindled away, as she didn't know what more to say.

  “But,” Hans continued hesitantly, daring to look up at her, “isn't death the customary punishment for treason?”

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” Ayla mumbled, staring down at her hands.

  “Then what are you waiting for, Milady?”

  “Dear Lord, man! Do you want to be executed? You seem to be asking for it!”

  Hans looked down again, shame spreading on his face. “I deserve it.”

  “No doubt about that,” Ayla agreed, despondently.

  “So, are you going to do it?” Hans pressed.

  No answer formed on Ayla’s lips. In truth, she did not know what she was supposed to do. Yes, this man had betrayed her people, his people; yes, he deserved to die. And yet, he was Hans. A man who had lived in the castle and been around her since she had been four or five years old. A man with family. She couldn’t just hang him.

  It occurred to her that maybe her attitude wasn't quite fair, considering she had been perfectly willing to dangle Reuben from the highest tower of the castle by his neck just for stealing a horse. But that had been before she knew who he was. Knowing people, it appeared, always made the difference.

  “First,” she decided, “I need to know more about what happened. Tell me everything. And I warn you, do not try to lie or hide anything. I may not be ready to kill you yet, but I'm not above giving you some alone time with Sir Reuben.”

  That threat obviously seemed to do its purpose. Hans paled and began to spout information like a gargoyle would water on a rainy day.

  “I already told you how Falkenstein's man first contacted me, Milady. He told me to earn the Margrave's favor, I had to do everything I could to secure an easy victory. The first thing he demanded was for me to participate in the attempt at your abduction.”

  “That…was you?”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  Ayla nodded woodenly. She h
ad expected it, but still, it was a shock to hear.

  “However, just in case that failed, he told me I had to take every opportunity to sabotage the defense.”

  Ayla nodded again. “So that is why you tried to open the gates?”

  “Yes, Milady. The man told me that, if I could get the gates open, I was to go outside and signal Falkenstein's soldiers. A scout would always lie in watch for my signal, and once he had received it, he would contact the camp. They would send up a troop of their best fighters up here in silence and darkness. They would secure the gatehouse and courtyard, and while they moved to the inner gates, the main force would move in behind them to kill the soldiers in the barracks in their sleep.”

  A cold shiver ran down Ayla's back as she watched the man recounting all this in a calm and detached manner. The two guards on either side of him had a hard time restraining themselves. They would have been among the “soldiers in the barracks” who were going to be killed.

  “These are your friends,” she whispered, not able to keep the horror out of her voice. “How could you? Even for your family?”

  Hans trembled.

  “I know the gravity of my crimes, Milady. But blood runs thicker than water, and despair runs thickest of all. I would do anything for my family.” As if finally bowed down by the shame, he lowered his head. Then, he hurriedly looked up again. “Did anyone die in the attack? In your attempted abduction? I knew there were wounded, but were there dead? It wasn't publicly announced.”

  “No, Hans. There were no dead.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the Lord.”

  “Why?” Her hand slammed down on the armrest of her chair. “Why would you thank God? You let the enemy in!”

  Pain flashed across his face for a second. “Yes, I did. That doesn't mean I wanted to. I fought that night, you know? I fought like all the others.”

  Ayla thought she had seen him among the fighting guards but had dismissed the thought as ridiculous. Now she was sure. He had been there. And he had fought to protect her life, from the men he himself had let into the castle.

  “Why?” She asked. “Why would you fight them?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I was hoping they'd kill me.”

  He was not jesting, Ayla was absolutely sure. Just as sure as she was that he was telling her the truth. She didn't know why she was so sure about that—after all, this man had betrayed her. She had no reason to trust him. But for some reason, every word out of his mouth rang truer and more important than many of the things she had heard from friends, trying to reassure or encourage her, to give her hope that might very well be false.

  “And the next attack? Sir Isenbard?”

  He shook his head emphatically and, for the first time, a little fire entered his eyes.

  “I already told you, I had nothing to do with that. I would never have done anything to hurt Sir Isenbard.”

  Ayla didn't quite know what to say to that. Finally, she told him, in a voice the gentleness of which surprised herself, “You do know that if your plot had succeeded, if you had managed to give me to the enemy or open the gates for them, the castle would have been taken. You know the Margrave's reputation. Surely you know what would have happened to Sir Isenbard?”

  Hans closed his eyes. “He would have been killed.”

  “Yes. He would have been killed.”

  “Milady?”

  “Yes, Hans?”

  “Why am I still alive?”

  An unwilling smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Still arguing for your own execution, are you?”

  “Maybe you're not arguing strongly enough for it,” Hans said with a detached smile. Ayla couldn't read minds, but she was pretty sure that in this single instance, the guards on either side of him were in complete agreement with Hans.

  “And the final time?” she steered the subject back to its original subject.

  “Last night?”

  “Yes. What did you do?”

  “Well, I had heard the news about the removal of the gate guards… I suppose that was a ruse?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “It was a clever one. I truly believed you would put the passage of Isenbard's soul over the well-being of your people.” Hans smiled weakly. “I should have known you better.”

  “Yes,” Ayla agreed, returning his smile. “You should have. I had guards posted in the gate towers and at Isenbard's grave.”

  There was a moment's pause.

  “Were you really going to open the gates and let the enemy enter?” Ayla asked. She was not smiling now. Her voice was dead serious, and so was her expression. Hans raised his head a bit and looked her directly in the eye.

  “Yes,” he said.

  And that was all.

  Now she knew the exact extent of his guilt and of his innocence. She knew of the crimes he had committed and of those he had not. There only remained one thing she had to find out. The most important thing of all.

  “Leave us,” she said to the two guards. They looked startled, and then stared down at Hans.

  “But Milady, the traitor…”

  “He knows what awaits him if he touches me.” She fixed Hans with a determined look, though, truth be told, she herself had no idea what tortures Reuben had promised him for that eventuality. In spite of her insistent badgering, the stubborn man hadn't breathed a word about it, and it was annoying the heck out of her. “Don't you, Hans?”

  “Yes, Milady.” He nodded, his face a shade paler.

  “Very well. Leave us, I said.”

  The guards hesitated for another moment, then strode towards the door.

  “We'll be right outside if you need us,” one said, and then they closed the door behind them.

  Ayla sat in her father's chair, regarding Hans for a long moment. Then she gathered her courage and asked the question that had slowly been killing her from inside.

  “You think the castle is going to be taken? That our situation is hopeless?”

  He didn’t ponder her question. He just nodded, slowly and gravely. “Yes.”

  “How many of the other guards feel this way?”

  “Many.”

  “How many?”

  “About a third of us, I would say.”

  “And the rest?” Ayla's voice became slightly unsteady. Here, in the presence of this strange, detached traitor, her defenses broke down, her facade of strength collapsed like a house of cards. “Do they not see the giant army in front of our gates? Do they not hear the horns of war blowing and the clash of metal on metal? Why do they still hope for victory? Are they blind, deaf, and dumb? Just like me?”

  “No.” Hans shook his head again. Hesitantly, he reached out and took one of her shaking hands in his. The touch of his rough, leathery hand felt oddly gentle, and Ayla relaxed a little. “No, they're not blind. They believe.”

  Ayla laughed. “In what? In God? A miracle?”

  “No.” Gently, Hans pressed her hand. “In you.”

  “Then they're going to be disappointed,” she mumbled, feeling the moisture in her eyes.

  “That's what I thought a day ago, Milady. But…I'm not so sure anymore.”

  Hans let go of her hand and moved back. Quickly, Ayla wiped the moisture from her eyes. The strange moment, the understanding between them, had passed.

  She stood up.

  “Guards!” she called.

  The two hurriedly opened the door. But when they saw that Hans was still kneeling on the floor in a meek position, they slowed down.

  “Take him away,” Ayla commanded.

  The guards did as she had ordered. Ayla remained behind, sitting slumped in her father's chair, a million thoughts whirling through her mind. The punishment for Hans, the fate of the castle, the trust of her people…she felt as though any moment she would collapse under the weight of responsibility.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Yes?” Ayla called.

  A servant entered and bowed reverently.

  “L
ady Ayla? There is a woman outside the keep who wishes to see you.”

  “Who is she, and what does she want?”

  “She's one of the guard's wives, I believe, Milady. She says her husband has vanished from his bed in the night and not returned, and now she is greatly concerned.”

  Ayla closed her eyes. Oh no. She had dreaded this.

  “Milady?” the servant asked hesitantly. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes.” Ayla forced her eyes open and sat straight. Now was no time to show weakness. The woman deserved the truth. “I will see her. Let her in.”

  “As you wish, Milady.”

  Love and Disemboweling

  Reuben knocked at the door. Normally, his approach would have been to kick the door open or maybe burn it down, but since he was supposed to be an honorable knight and an exemplary leader now, and since Ayla probably wouldn't have liked it much if he burned down any part of her castle, he took a less direct approach.

  “Come in, Madalena,” he heard Ayla's voice from inside. Frowning slightly, he opened the door a crack and pushed his head through.

  “I think you might be confusing me with a woman,” he said, grinning up at her. “Which is slightly disturbing, considering some of the things I have in mind for you and me.”

  “Reuben!” She looked very relieved to see him, that is, until the meaning of his sentence hit home. “Reuben! I…you…”

  “Yes?” he asked as innocently as he could manage, which wasn't very much.

  “Nothing.”

  Inwardly Reuben sighed. This was going to be hard work.

  “Were you expecting somebody else, Milady? I can come back later.”

  “No, no.” Quickly, she shook her head. “That is, I am expecting somebody else, but I'd be glad if you stayed, if you can manage it. I…don't relish the meeting that is ahead of me right now, and I'd be glad for your support.”

  “My support?” Immediately, Reuben was on the alert, his right hand pulling free his sword. He strode towards Ayla and grabbed one of her hands with his left. “Who is it you have to meet? An emissary of the enemy? Is it one of their warriors? Is it…”

  “No, nothing like that. It's a middle-aged woman called Madalena.”