Page 50 of The Robber Knight's Love
“Well.” Scrutinizing the disorderly heap ofwood in front of him, he scratched his beard. “I can see why yousent for me.”
“Since when have you been learned in sarcasm,Uncle Ironbeard?”
“I was being perfectly serious.”
Still, a few men were hopelessly trying toarrange the logs in a more barricading order. When they spotted SirIsenbard, they stopped what they were doing, and Bardo thecarpenter came hurrying over to them.
“Sir Isenbard! The Lord be praised, I heardyou had come!” He made a bow which, Ayla noticed, was even deeperthan the ones he had made to her. It didn't surprise her, really.She would have to gain a lot more experience and self-confidencebefore she could command people's respect with as much ease as theold Sir Isenbard.
“What do you think?” she asked, pointing tothe bridge. “How long will it take to raise a barricade?”
“Give me a day and it shall be done,” the oldknight responded, and then, without further ado, he proceeded toissue orders to the surrounding people at lightning speed,demanding more men, wood, nails, shovels, and a host of otherthings. After only ten minutes, they had dug a hole deep enough forthe first pole to be planted in the damp earth.
“Good!” Sir Isenbard shouted, marchingthrough the lines of sweating workers. “But you can do better! Youcan be quicker! Your families’ lives are on the line here! Youthere, yes you, the scrawny fellow! Get me ropes! And hides, asmany as you can lay your hands on!”
Aylawatched the proceedings, conflicting feelings raging in her. On theone hand, she was terribly anxious for her friends and family. Theywere all in mortal danger and their lives depended on what aroseout of the earth in front of her eyes. On the other, she was alsoexcited. Never had she been to any big tournament, or even a city,or any of the exciting places the minstrels[39]sang of. She had never even ventured beyond the borders of herfather's land. Now the outside world would come to her bearing abloody sword, and a battle the likes of which she had only heard ofin tales would be fought on her very doorstep.
“Milady! Sir Isenbard! Look out!”
The shout of the watchman on the other sideof the river pulled her abruptly from her thoughts. Her headsnapped up, just in time to see a dark figure darting between thetrees on the edge of the forest beyond the river.
“Get down!”
Not until Sir Isenbard rammed into her,knocking her to the ground, did Ayla realize that his shoutedwarning had been meant for her.
“Use your senses, girl,” the knight growled,in his anxiety forgetting her proper title. “That's an enemy scout!He might have bow and arrow!”
“So what?” she protested, struggling to getfree. But the heavy, chain mail-clad figure of the old knightpressed her firmly to the ground. “The Margrave wants to marry me,not murder me! Get off me, Isenbard!”
“He might prefer to have you as his wife—thatwould give his conquest a semblance of legality. However, thatdoesn't mean he won't consider your head on a platter a viablealternative. Do you think that's a risk I'm willing to take?”
That was about the longest speech Ayla hadheard him make in years. She stopped struggling. Only when theyheard the lookout shouting, “He's turned around! He's heading intothe forest!” did Isenbard roll off her and get to his feet. Heoffered her his hand to help her up.
“Oh sure,” she mumbled. “First knock me down,then help me up. Very courtly manners, indeed.”
She took a look at her dress and almostgroaned. This morning, she had put on one of her finest dresses, awhite silk with gold trimmings. Now, it was covered with muddybrown stains.
“Oh no! Another dress ruined! Why did you dothis, Isenbard?”
Isenbard snorted. “Because I had rather thatyour dress be stained brown than red.”
Ayla rolled her eyes. “Men! Have you any ideahow long it is going to take to get rid of those stains?”
The sound of a horn came from the eastern endof the valley. Everyone looked that way and saw above them, in thedistance, where the forest path left the valley, a standard risingabove the treetops. A standard in silver and black: the colors ofFalkenstein.
“No I don't,” Isenbard said in a quiet voice.“And if you don't mind, you'll have to wait until later to tellme.” Running towards the half-finished barricade, he shouted: “Whatare you staring at, you wooden-headed louts? Get working! Getworking again or I'll have the skin off your backs!”
From the midst of the men, Isenbard threwAyla one single look and nodded towards the castle. She understood,and for once, she was in no mood to argue.
She ran.
The horns of Falkenstein echoed behindher.
*~*~**~*~*
In his dark mood, Reuben again heard hornsblowing. What was this? The first contingent of wedding guestsarriving? Though he didn't particularly want to know how disgustingthe wedding guests were sure to be, considering the nature of thegroom, he got up and walked to the window. Morbid curiosity bedamned.
At first, he didn't know what he was seeing.The scene in the valley had totally changed. Oh, there were stillbirds singing in the trees, the sun glittering on the river water.But there was an anxiety and tension in the air he hadn't feltbefore. And in the middle of it all was the gray-bearded knight,shouting and waving his arms about as if the men he was commandingwere building a bulwark for a desperate final battle instead oferecting tents for a wedding feast.
