Page 99 of The Robber Knight
FlamingArrows
When Ayla's horse, half-dead from exhaustion,crashed to the ground before the bridge, dozens of soldiers criedout in alarm and hastened to aid her. Yet she jumped up and heldout her hands, directing them back to their posts. Her ribs hurtterribly from the fall, but now was not the time to showweakness.
“I'm fine! Eyes on the enemy, men!”
She had ridden like a demon to get back tothe bridge in time and seemed to have managed it. The enemy hadjust about covered half the distance. Her horse, however, might notsurvive the experience.
So what?atiny part of her thought.We are all going todie anyway.
All emotion had drained out of her. She hadcried all she could up at the castle. Now, all that was left was ablazing determination to carry out this insane plan of a sillymerchant who had delusions of grandeur and fancied himself amilitary commander. Why not? It was no worse end than any other. Atleast she would go down fighting.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Someone grabbed her from behind. As she wasturned around, she could see that it was Burchard. “Riding down themountain like that—you could have broken your neck! What game doyou think you're playing?”
“War,” she replied curtly. “Bring me threebarrels of lard, and tell the archers to wrap rags around theirarrows.”
“What? You haven't...”
“That was anorder.”
He studied her for a second, then bowed hishead and ran off as fast as his stout legs would carry him. Aylalooked over to the archers who were supposed to be arrayed alongthe bank of the river in a watchful line. Now they stood in a loosegroup halfway between the water and her panting, fallen horse. Theywere all eying her warily.
“Eyes on the enemy, I said,” she yelled, andmarched towards them. “Someone bring me something that burns,anything! The rest of you, form a line facing the water!”
They looked uncertainly between Sir Waldarand her. None of them was used to taking direct commands in battlefrom a woman, especially one as young as her.
“You are sworn to obey me! Move!”
None of them moved. They still lookeduncertain.
“And I'm sworn to protect you,” she added, ina softer voice. “Now, for the last time: move.”
They unfroze and hurriedly formed a line atthe edge of the water.
“What are we going to do, Milady?” CaptainLinhart asked, undisguised fear in his eyes as he watched the boatsof the mercenaries draw closer. “They will crush us.”
“They will never reach the shore,” Aylareplied with a conviction she didn't know she had. She mostcertainly didn't know where it was coming from. This entire inaneplan was based on the ideas of a fever-stricken merchant, forheaven's sake!
A fever-stricken merchantwho knows how a feudal army is structured and commanded.
“We cannot stop them, Milady,” the captainsaid in a soft voice. “Our arrows won't harm them. We already triedthat.”
Ayla fixed him with her mostlady-of-the-castle-like stare. “I wasn't suggesting to try thatagain. We have no time for arguments. You will just have to besilent and do as you're told. Can you do that, Captain?”
Linhart hesitated for a moment, then nodded.“Yes, Milady.” And by the resigned tone of his voice, Ayla knew hehad said it because it didn't much signify to him how he was goingto spend the last minutes of his life.
He thinks he will diehere, she mused.Do I think that,too?
And she realized that no, she didn't. She hadthought so only minutes ago, but now... Reuben was right. She didtrust him. It made no logical sense, but she was actually beginningto think his plan was going to work.
With a small smile growing on her face, shewatched several deathly pale villagers carry three barrels of lardtowards Luntberg's archers. Bemused, she noticed Captain Linhartpeeking at her out of the corner of his eye. He probably thoughtshe wanted to start baking pastries or make sausages on thebattlefield. Maybe he thought she was losing her mind. Well, maybehe was right.
“Place the barrels here,” she commanded thevillagers, pointing to a spot directly before the archers. They didas she asked and then ran. Maybe to bar their doors, maybe to grabwhat they could and flee. Ayla didn't know, and in that moment,didn't care. She had a task to accomplish.
“Dip your arrows in the lard,” she commanded.“Make sure that the rags are soaked in it.”
Now all the men looked at her as if she wascrazy.
