Page 5 of The Robber Knight
Blushing with joy at the compliment, Aylaclimbed on one of the stacks of wood and called out to the men whosurrounded her: “You all heard me! You all know what to do. Now Ineed all those who can ride a horse and brought one with them tostep forward!”
Several of the villagers and a few castleguards that Burchard had assembled stepped out of the crowd andbent their knees before her.
Ayla did a quick count. “One, two, three,four, five, six... hm, yes, enough. There are seven farms on theeastern bank of the river, aren't there?”
The peasants nodded eagerly.
“We're going to have to warn them,” shedeclared. “It will be impossible to protect the eastern half of thevalley. They are going to have to come here and live in the villagefor a time. Each of you,” she pointed towards the riders, “willtake one of the farms, warn their owners and help them bringwhatever is most precious to them back here.”
She started pointing at the men, one afteranother. “You will go to Walding's farm. You to Albrecht's, you toMenning's, you to Horst's, you to Otto's, you to Autgar's!”
One of the more intellectual castle guardswho had apparently learned to count to seven, raised a hand. “But,Milady, we are only six. How shall we warn the last family? Shallone of us visit two farms?”
Ayla shook her head. “No. Falkenstein'sforces are already on the move. Who knows, he might already havesentries posted throughout the eastern valley. With no borderpatrols, how are we to know? It's too dangerous for anybody to stayout there long. Besides, there's no need to. There are seven farmsand,” she called her horse with a whistle and swung herself backinto the saddle, “there are seven riders.”
“Milady!” If Burchard's expression had beenfurious before, it was nothing to what his face looked like now.“You aren't seriously considering...”
“I'm not considering anything,” she cut himoff, turning her horse to face the bridge. “I'm riding to Gelther'sfarm.”
Burchard strode towards her, a determinedlook in his eyes. “But you said yourself how it was dangerous foranyone to be out there. We have no idea who or what may lie inwait!”
“Exactly—which is why I have no time towaste.” She pressed her boots into Eleanor's sides. “Run girl! Runlike the wind!”
Burchard jumped forward, but too late. Beforehe could manage to grab the reins of her horse, she was alreadyspeeding towards the bridge.
“Milady!” he shouted. “Come back!”
Ignoring him, she raced across the bridge infull gallop. Just before she reached the other end, she lookedback, shouting at the stunned crowd: “And woe betide you if I don'tsee a solid barricade when I return!”
Then she turned east again.
Burchard remained standing at the bridge,looking after her, worry and anger etched into his wrinkled face.Only if you looked closely could you see the tiniest hint of agrudgingly proud smile, as his eyes followed the girl riding fasttowards the enemy, blond hair flying behind her.
Sir Reuben and theDoll
Sir Reuben sat on his horse counting money. It wasone of his favorite activities—the counting of money, not thesitting on the back of a horse. Not that he didn't like to ride.There was just the fact that if you did it long enough, it gave youa sore ass, which never happened from counting money.
“...twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine,thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.”
He closed the purse contentedly and let ithang loosely from his hand. There was nothing better than thetinkling of gold, except of course the tinkling of stolen gold.
Reuben smiled to himself.
The merchant had really been an amusingfellow. He honestly believed he had arightto keep the money he had earned. Well, maybehe had, in a strictly judicial sense. But Reuben's sword ticklinghis chubby cheeks had soon convinced him otherwise.
The knight was so lost in his happyreminiscences that he almost missed the hoof prints. Almost, for hewas Sir Reuben Rachwild. While one eye always looked at what hewanted to see, the other kept a close look on what he needed tosee. It was a talent that had kept him alive these past sixyears.
The hoof prints were not deep. They were alsovery far apart, which indicated speed. A light, nimble animal whoserider was in a great hurry. It had to be a Palfrey or a Jennet.Knights’ chargers, carthorses, and plowhorses were big, heavyanimals that didn't move fast and whose hoofs left deep impressionsin the dirt. Palfreys and Jennets were the only kinds of lighthorses. He would have given the matter no further thought, had henot suddenly reached a fork in the forest path he was ridingon.
The hoof prints led down to the left.
Sir Reuben stopped his horse.
He had seen what was down there earlier, whenhe had come riding into this valley: nothing but a few farms and alot of forest. It was a dead end. What would any rider be doingdown there? Especially someone who rode such a light, nimble, andsurely expensive horse?
Maybe it was a priest visiting hisparishioners?
But then Reuben noticed a strange mark leftin the dirt, inside the hoof print. Swiftly, he jumped to theground and examined the dirt more closely. As part of the hoofprint, there was the tiny print of a symbol left in the mud: acrest such as only nobles used to mark their precious horses.
