The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(119)

Ayla watched in fascinated horror as the Margrave's men spread across the courtyard like a swarm of locusts. Dozens pulled glinting objects from their belts without stopping to run. At first, Ayla thought they were swords, but then she realized her mistake: those were grappling hooks!

Still without stopping to run, the mercenaries started to swing the hooks over their heads. Thunder rumbled again, right overhead.

“Take them down!” Reuben's roar could be heard even over the thunder. “Take down the ones with the grappling hooks. Don't shoot at the others, they can't come up here! Shoot the ones with the grappling hooks, you puny little maltworms! Do you want me to throw you down there? No? Then aim better! Shoot faster! Do what I say, by Satan’s hairy ass!”

And they did. Oh, how they did. Ayla had never seen her archers shoot so fast. Whether it was because they knew their life depended on it, because Reuben was such a great commander, or because they simply were more afraid of him than of the approaching enemy, Ayla didn't know. But they fired off arrow after arrow at lightning speed.

One man with a grappling hook went down, blood spurting from an arrow in his throat. Another fell as a missile pierced his leg. But the grappling hooks were instantly seized by other soldiers, and the enemy army continued as if nothing had happened. Now that they were at a dead run, the enemy soldiers were much harder to hit than before, and only one in three arrows found their mark. The enemy came closer and closer, and Ayla slowly retreated from the crenels. This was looking bad.

“There!”

Sir Luca was pointing up at the wall. To her shock, Ayla realized that he was pointing directly at her.

“There! Throw the grappling hooks there! Get her! Half my share of the booty for the one who brings me the harlot!”

In spite of the fact that the ongoing battle should have been her greatest concern, Ayla felt indignation rise inside her.

“Who is he talking about?” she demanded, looking around. “I have no women of questionable morals in my castle!”

“He means you!” Burchard growled.

“What?” Ayla's eyes sparked. “That is just…just..impolite!”

Burchard pointed to the soldiers beneath, many of whom had now changed direction and, grappling hooks in hand, were now directly heading for Ayla.

“If you don't get out of here, those fellows are going to do stuff to you that's even less polite.”

“I won't leave! I have to stand with my people in this fight.”

“How noble of you, Milady,” the steward growled into her ear. “There’s just one little problem with that: you can't fight yourself!”

“That's immaterial!”

Ayla knew that her heart didn't agree with her on that. It was nearly jumping out of her chest. Everything in her was screaming to run. The blood, the thunder, the flying arrows, and the bestial faces of the men rushing towards her made her want to run and hide in some dark corner until all was over. But she wouldn’t. She couldn't. Not with the men that were fighting for her and would soon be dying for her in her line of sight.

“Get her!” Sir Luca was only a dozen paces away from the wall now. His grappling hook swung in menacing circles, making a sharp whipping noise that could be heard even over the rumbles of thunder. “Get her!”

Something zipped past Ayla's face, tugging painfully at her hair. With horror, she realized what it had been: the soldiers down in the courtyard had produced bows and were returning fire.

“Behind me, Milady! Now!”

Ayla wanted to protest, but Burchard grabbed her and pushed her behind his bulk no matter how much she tried to struggle. She might as well have tried to wrestle with a walrus.

“For the last time, Milady,” he growled, “won't you go down?”

“No. Will you?”

“Well…no.”

“But you don't know how to fight any more than I do.”

Turning his head, he scowled at her. However, she had long since gotten used to the threatening twitch of his impressive eyebrows.

“I might be of some use anyway,” he grumbled.

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Exactly what I was thinking myself.”

“Milady, you… Get down!”

He didn't have to tell her twice. A swarm of arrows flew over their heads, and they threw themselves onto the walkway to evade the lower-flying missiles. Then came a metallic clang—the sound of a grappling hook bouncing off the castle wall. The next one might not miss.

I could die today.

The thought appeared in Ayla's head with chilling certainty. Still, she could not make herself move, could not bring herself to flee. At least Reuben had good chances at survival. He was a good fighter and in the midst of her best soldiers. If anyone survived this maelstrom of steel, he would.

The arrows stopped.

“What's happening?” Burchard asked. “Why have they stopped attacking?”

“They haven't.” Somehow, Ayla knew the answer. Maybe because she was the object of the attack. She could feel the dark energy of the enemy's hate pulsating towards her. “They've stopped shooting, because now men have started climbing the wall. They don't want to shoot their own men.”

“So this means…”

“They're coming.”