by Robert Thier
“You see…it's this young man, Reuben. You remember Reuben, don't you? Yes, of course you do. He's the fellow that punched you through the stable wall and dumped you on a pile of horse manure. I guess you would remember him after that. So…Reuben. He…he says he loves me.”
There was a pause. Ayla could almost imagine it was just one of those ominous pauses in a conversation for which her Uncle Ironbeard had been well-known. She felt as if he just waited for her to finish her explanation and then he would answer, would help in any way he could.
“Not that I don't believe him!” she hastened to assure him. “I mean, at first I did, then I didn't anymore because I found out he had lied to me, and now I do again because he’s been so brave, so wonderful. You've told me yourself how he feels, and I know I can rely on your judgment. Of course he's not an eligible match, not in the least, but…” Lowering her voice as though the birds in the trees could hear her and reveal her secret, she whispered, “…but I love him, too. I want to be his, and I want him to be mine.”
She could almost see Isenbard raising an eyebrow, as if asking, 'Well, then what's your problem, girl?'
“Yes, I know, I might be making a fuss about nothing,” she admitted, chagrined. “But, you see, it's his past. I know practically nothing about him. And…and I think he can do things no normal man should be able to do. I'm frightened. I don't know what it is that makes him different, what it is that happened to him. I'm also afraid that, if I do know, it might scare me off, and…I don't want that to happen.”
She felt something brush her shoulder, like a gentle hand, comforting her. Her head whipped around, her heart hammering wildly—and all she saw was the branch of an apple tree, laden with growing apples, bowing under the weight far enough to touch her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her heart. She was being silly.
“So…” she mumbled, still out of breath, looking hopefully at the flickering candle. “What do you think I should do?”
And she knew what Isenbard would have said. He would have said that she had to find the answer herself. Only then would it be worth anything.
Again, a sad smile appeared on her lips.
“Thank you, Uncle Ironbeard,” she whispered. “Thank you for being there for me, always.”
She rose and, without another word, left the orchard. Behind her, the birds began to sing.
*~*~**~*~*
Ayla found Reuben in the outer courtyard, where he was putting another shift of guards through their paces. A tiny part of her was actually relieved to see his legs hadn't grown furry during the night.
“Faster!” he bellowed. “If an enemy came at you, the only thing that they might die of is laughing at your miserable performance! Faster, I said! Faster! You there! Shoot straight, or I'll come over and give you a personal lesson, with you as the target! Oh, good morning.”
The last three words, directed at Ayla, thankfully were not uttered in the same kind of commander-roar that he used on his soldiers. Ayla thought her ears might not have survived the assault.
“Um, good morning to you, too.” She gave him and the panting soldiers a timid smile. “I can see you're quite busy.”
Reuben waved a hand deprecatingly. “Oh, it's nothing really. I'm just helping them to concentrate on their work.”
Ayla thought that the soldiers might have phrased it slightly differently but held her tongue. Instead, she sidled up to Reuben, taking his hand and putting her head on his shoulder.
“Would you like to come for a ride with me?” she asked. “It's such a beautiful morning.”
“Well…I don't know. I really should continue…”
“Please?” Softly, she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and could feel him stiffen. She had to work hard to suppress a grin. Instead, she fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I know you said it's safe out there by now, but I still would feel frightened, and I want to go riding so much. Please come with me.”
“Well, if it's a matter of your being safe…that's different.”
“Really?” She gave him a shy smile. “You'd really come?”
“Yes. Just wait a moment while I give Captain Linhart my instructions.”
A few minutes later, Reuben returned and began saddling his horse. As Ayla looked back towards the practicing men, she saw them throwing grateful looks at her. She winked and smiled.
As soon as she and Reuben were in the saddle and riding towards the gates, though, her good mood vanished, and her preoccupation with what was coming returned in full force. Looking over, Reuben must have noticed a frown on her face, for a moment later, he asked,“I know that face. Something is up. This isn't just a ride for pleasure, is it?”
Ayla bit her lip. He was really getting to know her well, judging from the way he could read her expressions. That both pleased and frightened her.
Slowly, she shook her head. “No, Reuben. It’s more than that.”
“Then why are we riding out?” he inquired as they passed under the raised portcullis. “There aren't any more goods for us to inspect at the camp, are there?”
“No.” Ayla shook her head again, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. “I just wanted to get out of the castle for a while and find a place where we can be alone. We need to talk.”
Helpful Horse Romance
Reuben watched Ayla in silence as they rode out of the castle gates. The beautiful valley of Luntberg lay beneath them: a velvet cloak of forest, slowly taking on the colors of autumn, wrapped around a beautiful river which glittered in the light of the sun. Reuben hardly saw any of it. His eyes were fixed on the girl that rode beside him.
He knew very well what she was going to ask. What he did not know was whether he was going to give her an answer.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, and it all came back in a storm of images: the cheering crowd, the rush of speed, the splinter of wood, the screams, the pain. Unimaginable pain. Once, just once, and then never again. He remembered getting up. He did not remember staggering through the dark, from where the dead were kept to where the living vultures were yelling, arguing over scraps. But he remembered their faces when he came in. Over all the years, this memory alone had given him satisfaction: the horror on their faces as they realized their mistake. Especially in her face. How the wench had paled at his sight! Ah, how joyful it had been after being betrayed, that he was now the terror of those who had forsaken him.
Now, though, that memory no longer gave him joy.
He opened his eyes and looked at Ayla again. What if she would look at him with the same expression of terror on her face? Well, that was unlikely. He knew her by now, and knew she wasn't likely to be terrified. If he told her the truth about himself, she wouldn’t run away screaming. She might call her soldiers and have him thrown into the dungeon or burnt at the stake, but she wouldn't run or scream.
And a lot of good it will do your smoldering remains, he thought sarcastically.
But then, hadn't she told him she loved him? Yes, she had. He didn’t know a lot about this thing called “love,” but usually, people who felt it for each other didn’t burn each other alive, right?
Maybe I should tell her. If she truly loves me…
But that much? Enough to ignore what he was? Enough to ignore what no god-fearing woman should ignore?
*~*~**~*~*
Reuben didn't ask what Ayla wanted to discuss with him as they rode down the path into the valley, and Ayla was incredibly grateful for it. She needed to gather her courage to say what she had to say. They rode in companionable silence, past the path to the village, past the enemy's camp, where they waved to the men at work dismantling everything, and into a sunlit meadow with a single apple tree at its edge.
Ayla cleared her throat. It felt as though it hadn't been used in a very long time.
“People drive their flock here often,” she remarked, reigning in her horse and looking over the meadow. “It's good grazing. I used to come here often as a child. I used to climb the apple tree over t
here, eat as many apples as I could, and feed the rest to the animals.”
“You? Climbing trees?” Reuben raised an eyebrow. “I'd like to have seen that. Especially from below, if you were wearing a skirt.”
Ayla felt one corner of her mouth lift. “I might have let you.”
“How unladylike of you.”
Ayla smiled. “I was quite wild when I was young. You know, with mother dead and father falling ill, Burchard really was mother and father for me.”
“And you just have to look at his giant mustache to know he is so motherly! He must have done a good job.”
Ayla's shoulder's shook. “Oh, do be quiet!”
“Did he ever put on an apron and try to teach you how to sew and spin wool?”
The mental image was too much for Ayla. She broke out in a fit of laughter.
“That's not fair!” she gasped. “I came out here to discuss something serious with you!”
“Too bad.” Grinning at her, Reuben slid out of the saddle. “Do you think he'll teach me how to sew? Sounds like a useful skill.”
“Reuben!”
He didn't stop grinning, but fell silent and let her catch her breath. When she could finally talk again, she said, “How about letting the horses run free? I've hated it, having to keep Eleanor cooped up in the castle.” Lovingly, she stroked the mare's side. “She could do with a bit of freedom.”
“And I'm sure Satan would appreciate it, too.” Reuben nodded and began unfastening the saddle straps. He pretended not to notice when Ayla scowled at him.
“Haven't you changed his name yet?”
“No.” He flashed his devilish grin up at her. “Never will, either.”
Ayla chose not to dignify that with a response. Instead, she slid out of the saddle and relieved Eleanor of her burden. Then she hugged her beloved mare around the neck, feeling warm inside.
“We're free again, my girl,” she whispered. “Do you hear me? Free. Go and have fun. There's a lot of fresh grass for you to nibble out there.”
Regarding her with large, black horse eyes, Eleanor gave Ayla's sleeve an affectionate nibble. Ayla laughed. “Yes, I know. You always prefer me to grass. But you have to be hungry, and I'm not very edible. Go, off with you! I'll watch you having fun.”
With a last whinny to her two-legged friend, the mare turned and galloped out onto the meadow. Ayla watched her with moisture in her eyes.
Beside her, Reuben was busy heaving the saddle off the back of the horse whose name Ayla refused to think about.
“There you go, Satan, you old crock!” He gave the horse a hefty slap on the rump. “Go and find something evil to do!”
The “old crock” promptly fulfilled his master's wishes by aiming a savage back hoof kick at his head. Reuben deftly dodged the attack and watched his horse galloping off after Eleanor fondly.
“You have such a way with animals,” Ayla commented, shaking her head.
“And with people, too,” he retorted, leaning closer with another devilish grin.
“In your dreams,” she mumbled and wandered over to the apple tree. There, she sat down with her back against the trunk and relaxed. The whole scenery was so peaceful, and the last few days—and really the weeks before that—had been so exhausting… It was nice to sit here in the sun and watch two beautiful horses chasing each other across a meadow, even if she strongly disapproved of one of their names.
Seeing this peaceful picture before her, it sank in for the first time since Luca's death that the feud really was over. Peace had indeed returned to Luntberg, and she now had her whole life ahead of her once more, to do with as she pleased. It was a wonderful feeling.
Then she heard footsteps beside her and saw two plate armor boots, painted blood-red, entering her vision. With that sight returned the knowledge that, with the power to make her own decisions, also came the possibility of making her own mistakes. She prayed to heaven that this would not turn out to be one of them.
“May I?” Reuben asked. At least he did ask. But, being Reuben, he didn't wait for an answer before flopping down in the grass beside her and draping an arm around her shoulder. She stiffened. Oh no. This was way too close a proximity to him for what she had planned. She needed to keep a clear head, and with his body so seductively pressing against hers, making her tingle all over, a clear head was the last thing she would have.
Thank the Lord that he was at least wearing his armor! It would have been much worse if she had been able to feel the heat of his body, and his strong muscles separated from her only by a few layers of thin linen, close enough to…
Stop! Stop thinking about him without clothes, right away! Clear head, remember? Clear head!
“You know,” Reuben remarked drowsily, “maybe I should take my armor off. It's quite a hot day, and…”
“No! Um…you…you should definitely keep it on. Because, um…bandits might attack at any moment! Yes, bandits.”
“Bandits?” Smiling in a way that made it very hard for her to breathe, he leaned even closer. She could feel his breath upon her cheek. “Are you afraid some churl might rob you of your virtue? That's a little far-fetched, don't you think?” He waved at the landscape. “Looks pretty peaceful to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” she replied, breathless, but audible at least. “Some days, these forests, however peaceful they look, are infested with ruthless robber knights.”
He gave a low chuckle. Ayla felt the reverberation going through her entire body, stirring something deep inside her.
“Point taken.” Reuben gave a little bow of his head. “You are very wise to be cautious, Milady. Robber knights can be very dangerous.”
“I've noticed,” was all she could manage to whisper.
They sat a while in peaceful silence. Ayla just enjoyed the peace and Reuben's proximity. He didn't make any more offers to take his armor or anything else off, for which she was intensely grateful. She wasn't exactly sure she would have the strength of character required to refuse.
After a while, the silence was interrupted by Reuben's chuckle. Ayla looked up at him. She hadn't said anything funny, had she? In fact, she hadn't said anything at all. She had tried to think of a way of how to phrase what she had to discuss with him, but no words had actually passed her lips.
Then she noticed that Reuben wasn't looking at her. His amusement seemed to be directed at something different. Following his gaze, she saw he was looking at the meadow. There, Eleanor and the black stallion with the unmentionable name were no longer running freely over the grass, but standing close to one another—very close to one another indeed.
“They seem to be getting on very well together, don't they?” Reuben's voice was full of dry humor.
“I suppose so,” Ayla grudgingly admitted.
“Just think,” he sighed. “A beast of a stallion, used to heavy combat and travel throughout the kingdoms of Christendom and beyond, and a sweet, innocent, young mare who has never left her native pastures. That is the stuff epic romances are made of.”
Ayla swallowed.
We're talking about horses, she told herself. Nothing more, nothing less. But inside, she knew that wasn't true. There were words, hidden behind the words that Reuben spoke aloud. She felt it would be best to put a stop to it right away. So she shook her head energetically.
“Epic romance? I call it bad judgment. But Eleanor never had good taste in stallions.”
“You are very harsh, Milady.”
“Not so. I'm simply realistic.”
“I see.” Thoughtfully, Reuben scratched his stubbly chin. The motion was distracting. It made Ayla want to follow the path of his fingers with her own. “But, as you see, they seem pretty sure about each other.” He gestured towards Eleanor, who was rubbing her head against the neck of that accursed black stallion. Ayla decided that she would have to have a very firm talk with her mare once they were back at Luntberg Castle.
“Yes, it seems so, Reuben. And?”
Reuben's eye was no longer focu
sed on the horses. He was looking off into the distance.
“Do you think they will find happiness together?” he asked in a low voice.
Ayla swallowed. This was it. The pretense had fallen away. She had to chance it, now or never.
“I think that kind of depends on Satan.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
“In what way, Milady?”
“Well…horses can be very secretive animals. I'm sure there's a lot he is keeping back. A lot he hasn't told her about himself.”
“Such as?”
Here it comes, she thought, gathering her strength. Soon, she would know.
“Such as his past. Such as what made him the way he is.”
Reuben's expression had turned stony. “Why would she need to know?”
“Maybe,” Ayla whispered, tears coming to her eyes, “because she's afraid.”
“She doesn't need to be. Everything is fine, just fine.”
There was a silence. Suddenly, Ayla whirled around to face him.
“How did you do it, Reuben?” she demanded. “How did you hold a flaming torch with your bare hands?”
“I thought we were talking about horses?” Reuben asked, raising an eyebrow..
“Answer me!”
But he didn't. Fear began welling up in Ayla, faster and higher than ever before. “I-is it because…because you…”
“What?” Reuben looked at her curiously. She blushed. Oh dear Lord, how to say this…
“Is it because you are a servant of the devil?” she blurted out. “Flames are the Devil's domain, and you always swear by the Devil, and so I thought that maybe you sold your soul to him or are the offspring of a demon or maybe the great-grandchild of a witch or something and have the blood of the devil flowing in your veins and have control over the powers of hell! I mean, I wouldn’t judge you, it’s not your fault who your parents were, but if you haven’t repented and come back to God and are still an Apostate and Heretic and haven’t been baptized, I don’t know what to do because I love God and believe in him with all my heart and though I love you, too, so much, and Reuben, I couldn't…I just couldn't…”
