The Robber Knight

by Robert Thier

  “I don't want to go away!”

  “I wouldn't either, in your place,” Ayla said with a sad smile. “But, you see, there is this evil man coming who might do evil things, so you have to go somewhere where it is safe.”

  The girl scowled. “Can't you just kick him in the butt? You've got knights, haven't you?”

  “Well, yes, but he has more.”

  “That wouldn't matter if yours were better,” the girl proclaimed, sagely. “You see, I know. I hear from the bards every time they come to the village. A really good knight is better than a dozen bad ones. He can rescue princesses and fight dragons and bump baddies on the head and all that stuff.”

  Ayla didn't know whether to cry or smile. “Well, unfortunately, I haven't got any knights like that.”

  “Didn't you train yours properly?”

  “Yes, that must be it. Dear me, how careless of me. I'll be sure to get some good knights as soon as I can find some.”

  The little girl nodded, satisfied. The silly grown-up had obviously learned her lesson. But then she remembered her original subject. “I don't want to go away,” she repeated.

  Ayla wished she could just vanish into thin air.

  “Sorry,” she said. “You have to. But it's only for a time.”

  “Really? You promise?”

  Ayla nodded, and then wondered whether this was a promise she would be able to keep. “I'm here to help you move,” she said, trying desperately to change the subject. “I've got a horse; it can carry a lot of things away so they will be safe from the evil man.”

  “Aye. I heard you and Mummy and Daddy talking.” The girl bit down on her dress again.

  Ayla noticed for the first time that during their entire talk the girl had been holding one hand behind her back.

  “What is it?” she asked, sensing that the girl was battling with whether or not to ask something.

  “Y-you... you can bring stuff where it's safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “C-could you take Agnes?”

  “Who's Agnes?” Ayla wanted to know.

  In response, the girl pulled her hand out from behind her back and showed Ayla what she had been holding: it was a little leather doll with a painted face that could be female, or male, or could just as well be canine.

  “I don't want the evil man to get his hands on her,” the girl explained. “He'll lock her up in a tower or something! Baddies do that kind of stuff to girls.”

  Ah. Female.

  “Yes,” Ayla said, thoughtfully. “They do.” Then she smiled and took the doll. “Of course I'll take Agnes. I'll take really good care of her, I promise.”

  The little girl threw her arms around Ayla's waist and hugged her with astonishing force for such a scrawny little creature. “Thank you! Thank you so much! I hope you find a really good knight real quick!”

  “Yes,” Ayla laughed, stroking the little girl's hair. “I do too.”

  Under the girl's watchful eye, Ayla stored the doll named Agnes in the most comfortable part of the saddlebags.

  After packing the last of their treasured goods and with many expressions of thanks from the grateful couple, Ayla said her goodbyes and started back up the same path she had come down. As she threw a last look back at the farmhouse and beyond, she thought she could see a metallic glint at the eastern edge of the valley, heading down the road.

  But it was probably just a trick of the light.

  Hopefully.

  *~*~**~*~*

  Sir Reuben heard her coming up the path long before it was necessary for him to move a muscle.

  So he just sat there until he'd finished the rabbit he'd roasted over an open fire. It was really delicious, particularly with those spices he had pinched from the merchant. Every person he robbed should come with a supply of spices, he decided. It was really inconsiderate of them to only ever carry money. Oh well, as a poor robber knight you had to take what you could get.

  Lightly, he sprang to his feet and put his helmet on. The shiny red armor he was wearing did not hinder his movements in the slightest. There were knights who couldn't even get onto their horse without help in full armor. But not Sir Reuben, oh no. He was a very different sort of knight.

  Easily, he swung himself easily into the saddle. From the brush where he was hidden, he could hear the light hoofs of the horse, approaching fast. The rider seemed to be in a hurry. Just when the animal was about to pass him, he pressed his feet into the sides of his stallion and broke free from the brush to block the path of whomever was unfortunate enough to be his prey this day.

  “Halt!” he shouted.

  The Red Robber Knight

  He came out of nowhere. One moment Ayla had been riding along peacefully, the next, a huge black stallion was blocking her path, bearing a tall figure in shiny red armor.

  “Halt!” the man shouted.

  Ayla's horse seemed to understand him. She reared and almost threw Ayla off. It took her a few minutes to calm Eleanor down, during which time the stranger—a knight judging by his armor—just sat on his horse and did nothing.

  “You idiot!” Ayla shouted, still trying to calm her horse. “What did you mean by startling my horse like that? Do you have a screw loose somewhere, and I don't mean in your armor? You could have killed me.”

  “Well, that would have simplified matters,” the stranger said in an off-hand tone.

  At this, Ayla's eyes went wide. She quickly scanned the armored man. He was wearing an impressive bulwark of an armor in blood-red and gleaming steel-gray, which, strangely enough, didn't bear any crest. His visor was down, so she couldn't see his face. Could he be one of the Margrave's men?

  Carefully, she made her horse take a few steps back.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Now that's a simple enough question: all that you have.”

  She stared at the stranger, uncomprehending. Then, slowly, understanding came. A lone knight. A lone red knight. The red knight that had plagued her lands for weeks now. This wasn't one of the Margrave's men. This was worse.

  “You!” she hissed.

  “Aye,” the stranger said, jovially. “I.”

  “Get out of my way,” Ayla said with more bravery than she felt. “Go now! Leave this land and I will forget that you ever came here.”

  “What a generous offer, Milady. But alas, I have to rob you first. Even poor knights like myself have to live.”

  “Heel![14] Abominable villain! You dare defy me?”

  The man scratched the side of his helmet, as if giving the matter serious thought. “Hmm... yes, I think I do. Dare defy you, I mean. Now can we please get on to the robbery part? I've got places to be.”

  “But you're a knight,” she protested. “How can you do this? How can you rob a woman?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, it's quite easy, if you know how to. I'll let you in on my secret if you promise to keep it to yourself. You see, unlike men, women don't usually carry weapons. That makes them very easy to rob.”

  Ayla just continued to sit on her horse, fuming. “And what about duty? Honor?”

  “Ah, yes, those things. I think I had them once. Lost them about five years ago, and can't say I miss them particularly. Bothersome, they are.”

  “But you're a knight,” she repeated stubbornly.

  “A robber knight,” he corrected. “I rob from the rich to give to myself. It's a very nice arrangement. So, if Milady could please hand me her purse now, we can both go our separate ways.”

  Ayla didn't say anything. Then, she suddenly ducked, pressed her heels into Eleanor's sides, and tried to make the mare run past the stranger’s black stallion. Before she had moved three feet, however, a metallic ringing met her ears and a blade appeared at her neck, sweeping away the golden curtain of her hair.

  “You are either very brave or very foolish,” the red knight said in a pleasant voice. “Considering that you're female, I would presume the latter. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear, girl. Give me your money—now!” Th
e last word he spoke was as steely as his blade.

  Ayla stared down the shiny length of sharpened metal. Then her gaze wandered to the robber knight. Through his visor slit she could see his dark eyes. There was no hint of hesitation in them. The sword the man was holding was a monster of a weapon, broader than Ayla's slender neck.

  Slowly, very slowly, she reached for her pocket and grabbed the purse she always carried with her for emergencies. It held only a few silver Thalers[15]—hopefully enough to satisfy this ravenous monster!

  “Here,” she said, scathingly, throwing her purse at the man in the hope he would lower his sword to catch it and she could escape. “May you choke on it!”

  He caught the purse easily with his left hand, without taking his eyes from her or moving the sword an inch away from her throat.

  “Thank you,” he said, with an effected little bow. Ayla would have liked to slap him for that, but didn't dare. “And now get off your horse.”

  “What?”

  He sighed. “And we were doing so well. Girl, I'm robbing you. That means I take everything I want. Get off your horse.”

  She stiffened, and her gaze hardened.

  “If you think you can intimidate me, you villain, you are very much mistaken! I may have given you my money, but the only way you'll get me off this horse is if you drag me down forcibly.”

  Proudly, she raised her chin, ignoring the blade at her throat. She had called his bluff. Ha! Now what could he do?

  He sighed again. “Oh well, if you insist...”

  *~*~**~*~*

  Five minutes later, a very ruffled and even angrier Lady Ayla stood beside her horse on the ground.

  “Lecher,”[16] she hissed up the knight who was busy checking his armor for fingernail scratches.

  “Oh please!” She could almost hear his eyes rolling. “If you think I purposefully touched you there, you are very much mistaken. I only meant to grab you around the waist.”

  “Well, you aimed a bit too high for that!”

  “My hand slipped.”

  “So you say! I bet you did that on purpose!”

  The knight snorted and picked a few long golden hairs from his breastplate. “You wish!”

  Ayla gaped up at him in wordless indignation. The fiend had the audacity to suggest that she wanted, that she... It wasn't even possible for her to finish the thought in her mind! She could feel the color rising to her cheeks and gritted her teeth.

  Finished with ridding himself of the remnants of the struggle, the knight looked down at her and laughed. “You look funny when you blush, do you know that, girl?”

  “I can't find anything amusing about the situation,” she hissed between gritted teeth.

  “Just wait.” He bent forward and patted her on the head. If he hadn't been too far up for her to reach and hadn't been wearing his helmet, she would have punched him in the face, sword or no sword. “In ten years or so, you'll tell this story to your friends, and it'll make the long winter evenings seem that much shorter.”

  “If they've found and hanged you by then,” she snapped.

  “Ha!” He threw his head back and barked in laughter. “You'll have to wait a very long time to hear that news.”

  Ayla didn't want to, but she believed him. The way he handled that sword of his... He wouldn't be caught. Not if he could help it.

  “Blackguard,” she muttered.

  “You know, I was robbing another woman only three days or so ago, and she was much nicer than you.”

  An angry tear ran down Ayla's face.

  “Until this day,” she said, her voice quivering, “I had always thought knights to be men of honor. Apparently, I was mistaken.”

  “Oh, I do have honor, Milady. A lot.”

  “But you just said...”

  “Not the sort of honor you mean, Milady—the sort that compels you to be courteous and pious. That sort of honor is, as I said, bothersome. The sort of honor I like is the kind you take away from pretty maidens.” Ayla wasn't sure, but she thought she saw him wink through the slit of his visor. “And I have heaps of that.”

  He grabbed the reins of Ayla's horse and raised his free hand in farewell. “Good day, Milady.”

  With an encouraging curse, he spurred his horse forward and galloped off. Soon, he was nothing more than a black and red streak, flashing between distant trees.

  “I'll find you, do you hear me?” she shouted after him. “I'll find you, and when I do, I'll have you hanged from the highest tower of Luntberg Castle! That I swear by all the bones of my ancestors!”

  All she heard in reply was the rustling of the wind in the trees and maybe, just maybe, the faint echo of a devilish laugh in the distance.

  Ayla touched the place where the cold steel had pressed against the tender skin of her throat. The Margrave von Falkenstein was one thing—but at least he still kept to a distorted semblance of chivalry, tried to adhere to the rules and laws that governed life within the Holy Roman Empire.[17] This fiend on the other hand... He had unsettled her in an unexpected manner. He had made her angry. Very angry.

  Anger wasn't going to get her anywhere, though. Scowling at the surrounding forest, she turned and began stomping back towards the castle. If she ever got her hands on that robber knight, she would make sure that he never forgot the name of Lady Ayla von Luntberg!

  Clash of Arms[18]

  Ha! Reuben was immensely pleased with himself. Leisurely, he flipped open his visor and took a deep breath of the sweet-smelling air. It was a really nice day. He smiled to himself as he rode along, towing the girl's horse behind him. What a robbery!

  The girl had really been funny, especially the way she had stared accusingly up at him after he had plucked her off her horse, as if she expected him to ravish her at any moment. She had honestly thought he had let his hands wander on purpose!

  He chuckled lightly. As if a thin little slip of a girl, or any woman for that matter, could interest him! Women only cost money, caused trouble, and possessed no more brains or bravery than a rabbit.

  Though now that he thought about it... He had to admit that the girl hadn't seemed frightened when he had revealed his intentions, not even when he had held the sword to her throat. She seemed to have more guts than the usual specimen of her sex.

  On the other hand, she seemed underdeveloped in the brain department. Not being afraid when a sword was pressed against her throat was a pretty good indication of that.

  All the girl seemed to have felt was anger. Reuben had robbed enough people to appreciate the unique reaction. It got a bit tedious over the years when everybody just handed you their money without protest. The girl had been fun. Her accusing expression had almost made him want to slap her on the rear, just to see if she would try to stab or strangle him.

  He smiled to himself again, for no particular reason. Yes, that would have been amusing. And she had actually had the gall to threaten him with death! As if she would ever be in a position to have his life in her hands.

  At a place where the path widened a little bit, he stopped and went to the girl's horse. This was always the part of being a robber knight he enjoyed the most: reaping his rewards. Appreciatively, he felt the bulging saddlebags and reached for the clasp.

  “So,” he muttered to himself, “let's see what riches or delicacies this fine lady has stored in her saddlebags.”

  He opened the first saddlebag, reached inside, and felt something heavy and lumpy. Ah, this was sure to be a purse, full of gold! He pulled it out and blinked at the small sack of corn he was holding in his hand.

  Huh?

  Was everything all right with his eyes?

  Quickly, he reached into the saddlebag again and unearthed the following, in this order:

  A second sack of corn

  One hammer

  Two little barrels filled with pickles

  One rusted old horseshoe

  Three dirty wooden bowls

  One ugly little leather doll.

  Sir Reuben stared at t
he leather doll for some time, although it was no very pleasing sight. She (or he, or it, it was hard to tell) had a painted face that looked like she was being pinched in the butt and didn't like it.

  What kind of girl would be riding around the woods with this in her saddlebags? Reuben was reconsidering his assessment of the wench. Maybe he should consider himself fortunate to have got away from her with his life. He had heard that witches[19] used dolls in their evil ceremonies. And who but a witch or a madwoman would be riding through the forest with such a load? Who knew what she was capable of?

  Best to get as far away from her as possible, as fast as possible. Closing his visor, he sprang back into the saddle and brought his horse to a brisk trot that the animal could keep up over long distances.

  His thoughts kept drifting back to the girl. Was she after him now, bent on exacting revenge? Well, if she was, he would face her as bravely as he had faced anything in the past. Mad or not mad, witch or no witch, he was not someone to be beaten by a girl!

  Reuben’s musings were interrupted when he heard noises. However, they didn't come from behind, they came from further up the path. And they weren't the kind of noises he expected, either. He heard the sound of marching feet.

  He didn't slow down or try to hide, though. He never slowed down for anybody. Ever.

  The noise kept getting louder and louder. After a few minutes, Reuben entered a large, circular clearing. A lesser man might have waited, might have stayed on the easily defensible forest path. But he was not one to be deterred from his path by anything. Besides, why should those men be bothered by him? The clearing would only make it easier to pass them.

  A contingent of armed men came into view at the other end of the clearing and spread out. As soon as they spotted Reuben, the commander gave a sign to his men. They stopped and gripped their spears and guisarmes[20] more tightly at the sight of an approaching knight. Yet as soon as they saw that he was alone, they relaxed again.

  Behind his visor, a derisive smile the men could not see flitted across Sir Reuben Rachwild's face. If they had known him, they would not have relaxed.

  “Halt!” the commander shouted. “Halt in the name of the Margrave Markus von Falkenstein.”