Page 2 of The Robber Knight
“You should recognize the generosity of hisoffer and do as he wishes.”
“Oh yes. Very generous—to ask a maiden forher hand and threaten violence if she does not comply!”
The derisive smile was back on the herald'sface. “Would the Margrave as a husband really be so unwelcome? Youare already seventeen years of age, quite an old maiden. You shouldhave been married three or four years ago.”
“If and when I marry is none of your concern,and certainly not the Margrave's!”
“Indeed?By all accounts, you need a strong man to take care of things foryou in any case. There have been tales flying around the countryabout robber knights[7]infesting your father's landsever since he was taken ill. I myself met with a merchant fromCologne on my way here who had been robbed by a devil of a robberknight in crimson armor.”
Ayla gritted her teeth. She had heard reportsof the red knight before, but to be reminded of him by thisharbinger of doom, to be practically accused of dereliction of dutyto her people... It was almost more than she could bear.
“He will be taken care of,” she hissed. “Andhis crimes are nothing in comparison to what your master iscontemplating.”
The herald looked from her to the ring in hisoutstretched hand and back again. “Is that your answer?” heasked.
“No. You shall have my answer. Ulrich!”
The servant hurried to Ayla's side. “Yes,Milady?”
“Go and fetch the... accessory for fingersfrom the old room behind the dungeons,” she commanded.
The servant looked nonplussed for a moment.Then a horrified expression spread over his face.
“B-but Milady,” he stammered, “you commandedus never to open or enter that room again!”
“And now I command otherwise,” she said, hereyes still resting on the herald. “Go!”
“The... finger accessory, Milady?”
“Yes. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think so, Milady.”
“Then, as I said, go.”
Without a further word, the servantdeparted.
It was only a couple of minutes before hereturned, carrying something wrapped in a piece of leather. Whilehe had been gone, neither Ayla nor the herald had spoken a word.Neither had broken eye contact.
Normally, the main hall of Luntberg Castlewas a quiet, comfortable place: a huge fireplace with a warm fire,pelts lying on the floor, the colorful tapestries on the wall givena golden tinge by the light streaming in through the horn windowpanes covering the narrow windows. Yet while Ayla and the heraldeyed each other, the atmosphere became uncomfortably charged, andthe fire, which normally crackled so cozily, now seemed toforeshadow a much larger conflagration, a firestorm that wouldswallow up Ayla's home and leave it devastated by war. Like birdsof prey, the two sized each other up, each wondering how much fightthe other would put up.
It took Ayla a few seconds to realize thatUlrich had returned and was standing beside her, holding somethingin his hand. When she finally noticed his presence, she took theleather-wrapped object he had been sent to fetch and handed it tothe herald with a defiant expression on her face.
The heraldpulled away the leather to reveal an old, rusted, ironthumbscrew.[8]
“Take it to your master and tell him,” Aylasaid, her voice calm again, pointing to the rusty, old instrumentof torture, “that I would rather put this on my finger than thegolden thumbscrew he has offered me.”
She stepped down from the raised platform andbent forward to pick up the gauntlet.
“I accept the feud.”
Her Plan
“You will regret this. The Margrave has ways ofpersuading people. The first of his men will be arriving in a fewdays. More will follow. Then you will see what you have done!”
Those had been the herald's last words beforehe had departed. And, indeed, Ayla was already regretting herchoice. Not for herself, no. Never for herself. She would ratherhave died than become the wife of a man like Falkenstein.
Most women would have jumped at the chance tomarry the Margrave: by all accounts, he was young, quite handsome,and the best jouster between Cologne and Magdeburg. But he was alsopower-hungry, fanatical, and cruel, continuously extending hisdominion by waging war on his neighbors.
