The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(13)
“Milady?” Sir Rudolfus blinked at her wordlessly, as if he was still somewhere in Russia with its ingenious peasants, and found it hard to return to reality.
“How quick will we starve?” Ayla put it in plain words and felt a shiver run down her back.
“That depends on the amount of food consumed by each person every day, as well as the exertion they experience, any illnesses that should occur, and a number of less relevant factors that could, however, taken together, have significant impact.”
“How about you give me an educated guess based on the average amount of food a person needs? How long before we starve, Sir Rudolfus?”
“One month, sixteen days, three hours, and twenty-seven minutes, Milady,” the young knight answered like a shot from a crossbow.
“Twenty-seven minutes, Sir Rudolfus?”
“Well, it might be twenty-eight. The human body is notoriously imprecise.”
“I see. Thank you.”
Ayla tried to remain composed, but the shortness of the time that still remained was terrifying to her. Gazing at the giant pile of food in front of her, she thought, In one month, sixteen days, three hours and twenty-seven minutes I will be dead—knowing that the only man I ever loved has betrayed me…
No—that isn't true! I never loved him. And it might be twenty-eight minutes.
“And if we ration the food?” she asked, clinging to hope.
“I had already included rationing into the calculation, Milady,” Sir Rudolfus answered with a bright smile, no doubt pleased by his foresight.
“Oh. Well, then I suppose there is nothing more to be done here. You will see to it that the food is justly distributed?”
“I will, Milady.”
“Then I shall—” she cut off in mid-sentence when she suddenly heard noises.
“Lady Ayla! Lady Ayla!” Breathless cries could be heard from upstairs. Feet ran towards the cellar door, accompanied by the scrape of metal and the jangling of mail.
“Get behind me!” grunted Burchard and, without waiting for her consent, shoved Ayla behind his bulk, gripping his torch as though it were a sword.
Ayla snorted. Who was he trying to fool? Burchard was no swordsman, and if enemies had infiltrated the castle, he would be no better in a fight than she! Well, maybe a tiny little bit better, considering he was three times as big as she, but certainly not much.
She tried to move around him, to see what awaited her. Her heart hammered as the sound of heavy boots thundering towards the door came ever nearer. Why would soldiers come running? She glanced at Burchard's grim face. It was obvious what he thought. Could it be? Could the Margrave's men somehow have gained entrance into the castle?
Down, Down, and Away
The heavy footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs. Ayla retreated another step—but when the cellar door was pushed open, the figure appearing in the doorway was no enemy soldier. It was one of Ayla's own guards, and a grin of joy and excitement shone on his face.
“Milady,” he called down into the cellar. “Milady, I just passed the chamber upstairs, you know, the one we put this merchant in when we found him…”
Ayla’s heart went from hammering to frozen in an instant. What had Reuben done?
“And…?” she asked, her voice quivering.
“And I heard voices! Sir Isenbard is awake! He's finally awake, Milady, isn't that wonderful?”
Joy flooded Ayla’s heart, warming it, bolstering it, and, for the moment, making all her sorrow and heartache forgotten. Isenbard was awake! Finally!
“How is he?” she demanded eagerly, stepping around Burchard, who did not stop her this time. “Is he hurting? Is he able to move? How does his speech sound? Is he completely conscious or only half aware?”
“I do not know, Milady. I only heard him utter a few words, then I ran as fast as my feet could carry me to inform you of his recovery.”
“You did right,” she assured him.
“Will you go and attend to him?” The soldier sounded hopeful. He was obviously burning with the desperate wish to have his old commander back on his feet and in fighting condition. “Shall I inform him of your coming, Milady?”
She wanted to say yes. She had already opened her mouth and formed the first syllable with her lips—then she remembered Reuben. Abruptly, she shrank back. No! She couldn't be in the same room with him. Not now. Not after what he…
Quickly, she shook her head. “No. I, err…will have to constantly keep an eye on him, and I’m too busy right now to always be climbing stairs. Send a few men up there and have him brought to me in the main hall immediately!”
~~*~~*
“Bring the convalescent to Lady Ayla? Which one?” asked the guard. “This fellow, Reuben?”
Reuben's grip tightened around the iron candlestick. Swift as a panther, he jumped to his feet and raised his makeshift weapon, prepared to strike down the first man who dared to enter. The old knight at the other end of the room blinked at him, obviously not quite understanding what he was doing, standing behind a door with a raised candlestick in his hand.
Well, Reuben thought wryly, he would understand soon enough.
“No,” replied the other guard. “Not that one. Sir Isenbard. Lady Ayla is very desirous of speaking with him.”