Page 89 of The Robber Knight
“They're doingwhat?” Burchard asked in a disbelieving tone.
“Felling trees,” Ayla told him again.
The grumpy old steward looked very surprised,his bushy black eyebrows almost disappearing into his mane of hair.Finally, he shrugged. “Well, I say let them. Better that they cutdown trees than our men.”
Ayla shook her head, frowning. “They're notjust cutting wood for their campfires. There's something behindthis. I don't know what, but I don't like it one bit. I wish,” sheadded after a pause, “that Isenbard were awake.”
Burchard grunted. “We all wish that.”
“We need him.”
“I know that, Ayla.”
“They are planning something.”
The steward sighed heavily. “You are probablyright.”
“Then what are we going to do, Burchard? WhatamIgoing to do?” she asked him intones of rising panic, gesturing to all the people visible throughthe window of the main hall where they were talking. Some of thepeople were still milling around the entrance, badgering the guardswith questions about Sir Isenbard, others were on the walls,looking towards the east. “What am I going to tell them? What am Igoing to tell Sir Rudolfus, Sir Waldar, and the soldiers? That Ihaven't the faintest clue what our enemy is planning, but that theyshould just lean back and trust that I, a seventeen-year-old girl,can handle it?”
“Shh. Come here.” Burchard held open his big,beefy arms and Ayla let herself be hugged by him, let herself behugged like she had when she had been a little girl, here, in thisempty room, where none of her people could see her weakness. “Idon't know what you should tell them,” Burchard said. “I'm sorry,but you are the Lady of Luntberg—not I.”
“But you have so much more experience thanI!”
“Experience at planting cherry trees andgiving farmers who don't pay their tithes a good kick in thebackside, maybe.”
In spite of the tears now streaming down herface, Ayla had to laugh.
“I'm sorry, Milady.” Burchard opened his armsagain and pushed her slightly away. “Isenbard was the only oneamong us with any experience in leading men in war. Except,perhaps...” he hesitated.
“What?” Ayla asked, eagerly.
“Well... you could always ask yourfather.”
She jerked back. “No! Burchard, what are youthinking? He will be out of his mind with worry! I won't allowthat, not in his state of health. Don't you dare tell him that webarely survived the first attack, or that Isenbard is unconsciouseither, understand?”
Burchard unhappily chewed on hismustache.
“Do you understand, Burchard?”
“Yes, Milady,” he growled.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Aylastraightened and tried to calm herself. She couldn't go to pieces.She was a lady and had to behave like one.
“Assemble Sir Waldar, Sir Rudolfus, and thesoldiers' captains in this room in one hour. We will discuss ourstrategy then. Now I have to check how the sick and injured aredoing. I'm sure some of them need my attention.”
“As you wish, Milady.”
Ayla's steps led her first to Reuben andIsenbard's room. Some part of her wanted to insist that this wasmostly because of her concern for the latter, but she knew better.Her thoughts were on Reuben. She wondered at the fact that thisarrogant, ruggedly handsome stranger could mean more to her than aman she had known her whole life. For a moment, she asked herselfwhether she should be appalled by the fact. She wasn't. Instead,she was thrilled she would be seeing him again. In the name of God,she had spoken to him only yesterday! That was surely not longenough a separation to pine for anyone's company. What was thematter with her?
I am a virtuous maiden,I will not think licentious thoughts, she repeated overand over in her head.I am a virtuous maiden,and I will not think licentious thoughts.
It worked fine—until she opened the door toReuben's room and saw him lying on his bed, turned toward her, hisface covered in sweat and the sweetest, most devious grin on hishandsome features.
Dear saints and martyrs!
“Hello, Reuben,” she said, and for somereason couldn't help it—a smile appeared on her face.
The Lady and HerLances
