The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(102)

“Of course, Milady.” It was obvious to Reuben that the servant knew nothing of Hans’s betrayal. He looked confused as he nodded and retreated out of the room.

“Oh, Milady!”

Reuben’s eyes focused on the woman. The moment Ayla had spoken, a hopeful expression had appeared on her face. It wasn’t a particularly ugly face, Reuben supposed, just ugly in the way that all middle-aged women were ugly, with a plump face, graying hair, and wrinkles around her eyes. Wrinkles which now were crinkling into a smile of hope and joy.

“Milady, does this mean you have news of my husband? You know what happened to him?”

Without waiting for an answer, she rushed forward, directly towards Ayla. Her arms were clutched tightly around her own chest, just as Reuben knew one would hold them to conceal a small weapon.

“Stop!”

His word resounded like a whiplash. Quickly, he stepped in between the woman and Ayla, throwing Madalena a death-stare that made her stop in her tracks and almost keel over from fright.

“Reuben!” Ayla called from behind him, sounding amusingly like a lady who was miffed with her favorite hunting dog for growling at a stranger. “Let her through. She's just here to talk to me.”

The woman had dropped her arms by now. No concealed dagger was visible so far. Hm. Maybe it had just been a sign of emotion. He supposed women did worry if their husbands went missing.

Reuben rummaged around in half-forgotten memories and, after a second or two, managed to put on his most charming, courtly smile. After all, who knew? This woman might not be a bloodthirsty killer. There were women like that, somewhere, probably.

“You must forgive me, good woman,” he said with a slight inclination of the head. “I'm responsible for Milady's safety. If you would be so good as to show me your hands, I would be more than happy to let you through.”

“O-of course, Sir,” She replied in a quiet, anxious voice and held out her arms. No daggers visible anywhere, Reuben noted, with a slight twinge of disappointment.

“Very well. You can pass.”

He stepped back behind Ayla's chair, and the woman knelt at the feet of her liege lady.

“Milady, do you know what has happened to my husband? He went to his bed last night like every other night, and since then, I haven't seen him. I woke up, and the bed was cold beside me. Do you know what has happened? Has he fallen prey to the enemy?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Reuben saw a tear shimmer in Ayla's.

“Yes,” she replied. “I suppose, in a way, he has.”

She proceeded to tell the woman everything, without embellishment. When she came to the part where the woman's husband had been thrown into the dungeon, Madalena began to cry, softly and quietly, and started to rock back and forward.

“It can't be true,” she whimpered. “Milady, it can't be!”

“Madalena, I swear to you on the grave of Sir Isenbard von Riffgarten, it is.”

There was a pause.

“What…” Madalena's voice broke, and after a second, she started again. “What is going to happen to my husband?”

Ayla hesitated. She didn’t want to say it, Reuben could tell.

The knight felt an unexpected emotion stir up inside him: pity. True, her husband was the misbegotten spawn of a worm-eaten pig, but that didn't mean she couldn't be a perfectly amiable woman. She had shown no sign so far of being a traitor. She deserved to hear the truth.

“The usual punishment for treason is execution,” he told her, trying to smile reassuringly and thus convey to her that she would soon be free of that loathsome creature who called himself a castle guard. “It can take various forms: sometimes, people are hanged, drawn, and quartered. Sometimes, they are disemboweled. In extreme cases, such as the one your treacherous pig of a husband is, it's also possible for the culprit to be flayed alive.”

The woman paled, and Reuben frowned. He would have thought that his description was explicit enough to satisfy the anger of betrayal she must no doubt be feeling. Apparently not.

“Sometimes,” he added hopefully, “the culprit is emasculated before the execution, if that's any comfort to you.”

“E-emasculated?” The woman stuttered.

“Oh, you haven't heard that before? It means the cutting off of the boll—”

“Thank you, Reuben!” Ayla interrupted him. “Thank you very much for your elucidating little speech.” She flashed him a look that, for some reason, looked…angry? But now, that couldn't be, could it?

“Milady, I beg of you!” Prostrating herself on the ground in front of Ayla, the woman clutched at the hem of her dress. “Please don't! Please don't let him…” She threw a frightened look at Reuben, who frowned again. Had he still not been clear enough? Perhaps he should share a view of his private plans for Hans…

“I understand.” Ayla’s voice was so kind and gentle, it could practically have been bottled and sold as liquid gentleness on the nearest market. Taking the woman’s hands in hers, she squeezed. “I'll do the best I can.”

“Thank you! Milady, please, remember what would happen to us, to his poor children! Please, I beg of you…”

“I'll do the best I can,” Ayla repeated soothingly, and then nodded to the guards. “Show her out. I have something to discuss with Sir Reuben here.”