The Robber Knight's Love

by Robert Thier

  “Why?” Ayla had demanded to know. “Just tell me why!”

  And all he would do in response was shrug and say, “Just a feeling I have.”

  His feelings hadn't been enough to deter the villagers in the end. Work was underway on several houses in the village already, and Ayla was very proud of her people's work. One day, she decided to take a ride through the village and have a look at what had so far been constructed.

  What she found puzzled her exceedingly. There were several houses being built, all right. But it looked like that there had been a huge error made in the construction. As she passed Bardo the carpenter, she called him over. She had barely to lean down from Eleanor to talk to the huge man.

  “Um…Bardo?”

  “Yes, Milady?”

  “Not to be disrespectful of your skill, Bardo, but you seem to have made a mistake.” She pointed to the houses, or rather, skeletons of houses. “There are all those huge holes in the houses. They are just wooden frameworks.”

  Bardo nodded earnestly, respectfully holding his cap in his hand, as he always did when talking to his mistress. “That's how it's supposed to be, Milady. The gaps will be filled in.”

  “Interesting.” Ayla looked at him enquiringly. When he wasn't forthcoming, she prompted, “With what?”

  “Um…that's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Milady. If you have the time.”

  Frowning lightly, Ayla noticed that he had avoided the question. She also noticed that Bardo had started twisting his cap in his huge hands, as he always did when he was nervous.

  “Go ahead,” she said pleasantly, meaning to put him at his ease. “I have time.”

  The speed of twisting increased.

  “Umm…maybe some place private?” Bardo inquired, his eyes downcast.

  Leaning forward a little more, Ayla asked, “Is it a secret mixture, what you put in the gaps? A secret of your craft?”

  “No, not exactly…”

  “Oh.” Ayla had to admit, she was slightly disappointed. She also couldn't see what he was being so secretive and nervous about, if that wasn't the case.

  “Well, then you can come right to the point.”

  “Um, Milady…well, you know how you have all those animals up in the castle? Horses and cows and God knows what else, a lot more than we have down here?”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, you could say it has to do with them. Because you have them, you have…the building material we need. We was hoping you could give us a bit. Usually, our own animals would be enough, but now that we have to rebuild the entire village…we was hoping you could help us out.”

  “Indeed?” She smiled at him. “Well, if it is in my possession, you shall have it. What is this magical substance connected to my animals that will build your houses? What do you need to fill those gaps?”

  Bardo told her.

  The smile froze in place on Ayla's face. She stared at him, trying to think of something to say.

  “Err…Bardo?” She cleared her throat. “Are you feeling quite well?”

  “Yes, Milady.”

  “You haven't been drinking, have you?”

  “No, Milady. It's really what we use. It's what we've always used.”

  “But the smell, Bardo…”

  “You get used to it after a while, Milady.”

  “Is that so? Well, I must admit, I've had no experience in that direction.”

  “I didn't expect you would, Milady.”

  “No.”

  “But it really is what we need, Milady.”

  “Um…I see. Well, with all the animals in the castle, we certainly have plenty of…that. I shall be glad to let the stable master bring you a cart full at the earliest opportunity.”

  “Thank you very much, Milady.”

  They parted, both happy to hurry away to what they were doing and promising to themselves that they would never, ever remember this conversation.

  *~*~**~*~*

  “Ayla, really, this isn't necessary.”

  “He needs to know what you have done for me. For all of us.”

  “I'm really a very modest person.”

  “Liar!” She grinned up at him cheerfully. “You're just afraid.”

  The two of them were in the room at the bottom of the stairs that led up the castle's highest tower, where Ayla’s father lived. The growl that came from Reuben's throat in response to Ayla's words sounded like something between a bear and a rabid wolf. It reverberated around the stone chamber.

  “I. Am. Not. Afraid,” he said very slowly and carefully.

  “Then why don't you just come up and meet him?”

  “Because I…”

  Reuben scowled.

  “Excuse me, Milady?”

  At the sound of the voice, they turned around. Unnoticed by either of them, Sir Rudolphus had approached them, slate and pencil in hand. He bowed. “I have completed my assessment of the enemy supplies. Would you like to receive my full report?”

  “Actually, I'm rather busy at the mo—” Ayla began, but Reuben cut her off.

  “Of course! She would be delighted to hear it. We have really nothing to do, at the moment.”

  “Wonderful! Wonderful!” Sir Rudolphus’s delighted smile dissolved the angry expression that had begun to form on Ayla's face.

  “Very well,” she sighed, stepping on Reuben's foot and receiving absolutely no reaction. “Give your report.”

  The report, as it turned out, was very much to Ayla's liking. Not only were the mercenaries' provisions enough to get her people through the winter, but stacks of warm cloaks had been discovered in a wagon outside the camp, and several cows who had provided the mercenaries with milk and cheese had been found in an enclosure not far away.

  “It seems the enemy expected the siege to last into the winter months,” Sir Rudolphus said excitingly, tapping the slate he held with a pen, “and made their preparations accordingly. Now, the supplies they brought for a long winter campaign will see us through the cold time of the year.”

  Ayla felt a renewed wave of happiness and warmth wash over her. She couldn't have borne it if she had seen her people through the siege, only to have them starve when the snow fell.

  Thinking about all Rudolphus had said, it occurred to her that she might share some of the warmth she felt, literally.

  “Will you please tell Burchard to distribute the clothes we found among the poorest of the village families?” she asked. “Particularly those with little children.”

  “It will be attended to, Milady.” With a bow, Sir Rudolphus retreated. Ayla sighed and turned, knowing that arms would await to hold her. And so they did. She pressed her face into Reuben's chest and sighed contentedly.

  “This makes you really happy, doesn't it?” She heard his deep voice but didn't look up. It felt so comfortable, just being pressed against his chest.

  “You have no idea,” she whispered. “If my people were to come to harm because of me…”

  “Shh.” His finger gently touched her lips, silencing her. The touch of his finger on her lips was…distracting. “Nothing is going to happen. We have enough food—you said it yourself.”

  She rubbed her nose against him in a sort of nod. “Yes, we do. Still, it was a close thing. If my father hadn't been so cautious and collected supplies throughout the years, I’m not sure we would make it, with or without the food from the mercenaries.”

  “Well, he has, and we will. So stop worrying.”

  “I will. I promise. And…” She stepped back and, having just remembered, smiled up at him. “Speaking of my father, there is one thing that still needs to be done.”

  Reuben groaned in manly despair. “I was hoping you had forgotten.”

  “I am very persistent, Sir Knight.”

  “I am fully aware of the fact, Milady,” he growled. “Do I really have to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn't you say you loved me?”

  “Yes. And?�
��

  “If you love me, you have to do this.”

  He made a face. “I'm not sure I love you that much.”

  She poked him in the ribs. “Really?”

  He groaned. “No, not really! Argh! Can't I go find a dragon for me to fight instead? It's considered a recognized proof of a knight's love for a lady throughout the lands to fight a dragon. I could chain you to a rock and rescue you. I wouldn't mind if the beast bit one of my fingers off, even. Couldn't I do that instead?”

  “No! If you love me, you will do this!”

  “You are a cruel woman.”

  “Yes, I am.” Smiling, Ayla stood up on her tiptoes and flicked a tiny speck of dust from Reuben's shiny red armor. Taking up her place beside him, she faced the steps leading up to the tower chamber. “Ready to meet my father?”

  Meeting of Knights

  “Now listen!” Ayla stopped Reuben before the door to the tower chamber and held a finger under his nose as if he were a misbehaving puppy that had to be taught a lesson. “You stay here while I pave the way.”

  Oh, by the devil and all his demons! This was really too much to bear. Reuben rolled his eyes.

  “Why can't I just come in and get it over with?” he growled.

  “Are you insane? My father is old and sick! His heart is not what it used to be.”

  “Meaning you think I scare people to death with my mere presence, is that it?”

  “Well…” He watched while she inspected him from head to toe. He had insisted on putting on his red armor for this occasion, and finally, Ayla had relented. None of the garments in the castle that were fit for a nobleman of his station were large enough to fit him, and knight's armor was, after all, perfectly acceptable for most social occasions. Depending on the reaction of Ayla’s father, Reuben suspected that, in this case, it might even be life-saving. Ayla continued her inspection of the six-foot seven beast of a warrior in front of her for a few moments, her eyes finally landing on the huge sword at his waist.

  “To be absolutely frank, Reuben…yes, you do.”

  “Really?” A delighted grin spread over his face. “Thank you very much for the compliment, Milady.”

  Rolling her eyes, Ayla grabbed the door knob.

  “You stay here, and wait,” she commanded again.

  “Yes, Milady. As you wish, Milady.”

  The door closed behind her, and Reuben could hear the muffled sound of voices from inside the room. He couldn't understand a word of what they said, though. A frown appeared on his face. He couldn't have that, now, could he?

  Quickly, he took two steps towards the door and pressed his ear against the oak. Oh yes, it was much better like this.

  “…something I haven't told you, father,” he heard Ayla's voice.

  “I thought as much,” came the reply in a brittle, old voice he had never heard before. “The servants have been whispering about a knight's duel on the walls during the final battle—and the only knights we have left are Sir Waldar and Sir Rudolphus. They didn't use their names. They spoke of someone else. Somebody they called ‘Sir Reuben.’ And I have heard the shouts of soldiers training from the outer yard. What’s happening, my daughter? Who is this Sir Reuben?”

  “Um…the new commander of our armed forces.”

  There was a pause. Then, the old man said in what Reuben thought was a remarkably calm and friendly voice, “Kindly explain to me how a stranger whom I have never met or heard of in my life came to be the commander of all my vassals while I wasn't looking.”

  Ayla cleared her throat. “Well, I'd have to start from the beginning, I suppose…”

  “That would be a good idea, yes.”

  “It was before the siege started, you know.”

  “I see. So you made this man commander of our vassals several months ago and haven't seen fit to mention the fact?” Still, the old man’s voice was amazingly calm and friendly. Or at least it sounded calm and friendly. Reuben had been around long enough to know the difference.

  “No, no,” Ayla was quick to assure him. “I didn't mean putting him in command. I mean, this whole thing with him started back then.”

  “Indeed? What ‘thing’ are we talking about, precisely?” Still friendly, yes…but, under the soft surface, there was steel.

  “It all started in the forest,” Ayla explained. “You see…he was shot.”

  “Good.”

  “Father!”

  Reuben smirked at Ayla's indignant tone. He was beginning to like this old man, even through three inches of solid oak.

  “You're right, Ayla. I am sorry,” her father apologized.

  “I should hope so.”

  “I’ll wait and hear the rest of the story before I decide whether it was good or not that he was shot.”

  Since he heard nothing in reply, Reuben thought that Ayla chose not to honor this with an answer. He pitied the count, though. He knew that, at this very moment, he would be exposed to one of Ayla's most forceful, reproachful looks from those big blue eyes of hers.

  “So what happened after he was shot?” The count asked when the silence had lasted long enough.

  “I was out there, to warn the farmers of the approaching danger, when I found him, wounded from a ferocious fight.”

  “You went out there? While the Margrave's men were already in the area? I explicitly forbade you to do any such thing! Ayla, that was…”

  “I had a company of men with me,” she interrupted him. Reuben had to grin again. She apparently felt no need to mention that this group of men had been compelled to chase after her after she had ridden off on her own.

  “Hm. I see. It was still dangerous.”

  “Yes, father, but wars generally are.”

  The voice of the count was even drier and more brittle than usual as he said, “I have noticed.”

  “Well, on our way back, we found this man, bleeding and half-dead, with three arrows in his back, in a circle of dead enemy soldiers.”

  Reuben had to admit, her omissions were increasingly amusing. This time, she had forgotten to tell her father how he, Reuben, had robbed her of all her belongings and left her in the forest, and also the fact that she had sworn to have him killed for it. Probably not the best things to mention when you were about to introduce a man to your father.

  “Dead enemy soldiers? Who had killed them? He?”

  “We didn't think so, back then, father. It seemed unlikely. He was only one man—unarmed and unarmored—and there were about forty of them.”

  “Ha, unlikely indeed. So what happened to them if he didn't kill them?”

  “Father…I said we didn't think he had killed them at the time. I didn't say that he had not actually done it.”

  There was a pause.

  Then Reuben heard the count's voice again, more serious now.

  “Continue.”

  “We brought the man back to the castle. I had to look after his wounds, or he would have died.”

  In quick, concise words Ayla proceeded to explain how Reuben had told her he was a traveling merchant, and how she had looked after Reuben during his weeks of wound-induced fever. From her previous words, it was already pretty much evident that this was not yet the whole story, and the count remained silent, listening attentively. Almost as attentively as Reuben.

  When Ayla told her father how Reuben had finally revealed his true identity to her—completely voluntarily and in a very moving scene which contained a lot of mushy dialogue that Reuben found extremely amusing—the silence of Ayla's father ended abruptly.

  “What?” he yelled. “He lied? Concealed his identity from you, who only wished to help him? That is not the act of a knight! That is the act of a dastardly rogue!”

  Reuben had to admit, Count Thomas was quite perceptive. He felt the urge to applaud.

  “No, it wasn't!” Ayla protested. “He didn't know who we were or what he would be getting mixed up in.”

  “It was the act of a devious devil and a coward, Ayla, and you know that. I won't hesi
tate to say it to his face.”

  There was a moment of silence. Then, Ayla demanded, “So it was a coward who defeated forty of the Margrave's men on his own, Father, was it?”

  Again, a moment of silence. When the count's voice replied, it sounded awkward. “Well…if you put it like that…”

  “Wait to judge him until you hear the rest of the story,” Ayla said, and Reuben felt a thrill at the love in her voice. He only hoped the Count couldn't detect it as easily. “You will see he is a very different man from what you think he is.”

  “Very well.” Apparently, her father had detected nothing unusual in his daughter’s tone. “Go on.”

  And she did. She proceeded to recount the whole history of the siege to him, featuring a brave young knight in the main role who had risked his life to rescue her beloved horse, and then saved her from the evil clutches of her enemies more than once. Reuben was quite impressed. Up to that point, he'd had no idea how brave and noble he actually was.

  When she came to the point where the mercenaries had sneaked into the castle and taken her hostage, there came a gagging sound from the other side of the door, and Ayla's story abruptly broke off.

  “Father?” she cried. “Father, are you all right?” Reuben heard the soft patter of her feet on the stone floor, then a squeak, as she sank onto his bedstead beside him.

  “I'm…fine,” said the voice of the count, slightly hoarse now. “You were taken hostage by the enemy?”

  “Well…yes. But just a little bit.”

  “I see. And why exactly did you not mention this to me at the time?”

  “I didn't want to worry you.”

  “That was so considerate of you, my dear daughter. Please, in the future, continue to place my level of anxiety over your well-being.”

  “I never expected to hear sarcasm from you, Father.”

  “Well, I never expected to hear that my daughter participates in pitched battles and nocturnal raids! I suppose we all have surprises in us somewhere.”

  “Point taken.”

  “So, dear daughter, please continue. Since you are still in one piece, I'm guessing your guards managed to free you from the clutches of your captors?”