The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(135)
Soon, the food was ready, and its warm smell filled the hall. It was by no means a real feast laid out before them. even though the siege was over, they still had to be careful, with autumn and winter approaching. But, to the people of Luntberg, every slice of pork was a roasted boar, every sip of mead a bottle of the finest wine.
Ayla, who had contented herself with her usual bowl of gruel, found that it tasted much better than she would have expected. It was still the same gruel, still the same plain fare, but there was a sweetness to it: the sweetness of victory, seasoned with the mustard of peace and the pepper of companionship. Around her, Ayla saw people happily chatting with one another, anticipating a speedy return to their homes down in the valley. Ayla knew that it wouldn't be so easy, but she also knew that the day would come, sooner or later. She would make sure of that. These people deserved a home.
At the very end of the guard's table, she saw two quiet figures: Hans and his wife Madalena. The guard bore a new scar on the left cheek, where a blade had nearly missed his eye during the fighting. She looked at them. They looked at her. Then, slowly and deliberately, they bowed their heads to her, and she nodded in return. Madalena reached down, and from between raucously laughing guards, picked up two girls: tiny little things with shy smiles and identical little pigtails. Anna and Katherine. The moisture glittering in their mother's eyes as she held them and looked at Ayla said more than words ever could.
Ayla ate slowly that day, enjoying her first relaxed meal in weeks. She was one of the last to leave the hall. Having already seen to the wounded that day, she made a tour of the castle, checking how the families that were camped out everywhere were doing. Wherever she went, she was welcomed with warmth and exuberance. The people bowed, laughed, cheered, and, in some cases where familiarity had worn down the feudal distinctions, gave her a hug—a thing she treasured more than all the bows in the world.
“Milady,” one of the women whispered, grasping her hand, “if I may be so bold as to ask…what will become of us now? Our village is still in ruins.”
“Don't be silly,” Ayla told the woman with a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “You'll stay here in the castle of course until all the repairs are completed. It's a bit cramped for so many people, but I think it will be all right, don't you worr—”
Before she could finish, the woman had pulled her into her arms and hugged her tightly.
“Thank you, Milady!” Ayla could hear the half-suppressed tears in her voice. “Thank you! May St. Matilda[24] bless you and all your children!”
“Um…I don't have any,” Ayla pointed out, her ears turning red again.
“Not yet,” the woman replied with a twinkle in her eye. “That’s what Saint Matilda’s for, after all—and that young man of yours.”
Ayla pressed her hand one final time and hurried away before her ears could burn off from embarrassment.
Feeling she needed some fresh air to clear her head and cool off her ears, she went into the courtyard. She expected to see some people there—maybe a few soldiers lounging about, recuperating from the exhausting battle last night. But she saw not a single one. Only at the gate there stood two soldiers, as straight as rulers, their eyes wide open, spears clutched firmly in their hands.
“Your sense of duty is very commendable,” she said, approaching them with a smile. “But I would have thought you had earned a day in bed. The enemy is beaten, after all.”
They bowed simultaneously, their backs stiff enough for a parade.
“The enemy is never far away, Milady!” declared the one on the left, as if it were one of the ten commandments.
“We must be always vigilant, Milady!” exclaimed the other in the exact same tone.
Their eyes never moved. When they had finished with their bow, they just stood mute, staring forward.
“Um…I'm sure you do,” she said hesitantly.
“It is our greatest honor to serve you, Milady,” they proclaimed in unison. “We would die for you if you commanded, Milady. Your word is our command.”
“Well, thanks.” Bewildered, Ayla looked from one impassive face to the other. What was going on here? “Do you know where everybody is?”
“Outside, Milady.”
“Thank you.”
The soldier bowed again, even deeper this time. “There is no need to thank me, Milady. It is the greatest honor in the life of this unworthy worm to serve a lady such as yourself!”
Quickly, Ayla hurried out through the inner gate in search of the rest of their soldiers. Had they all been struck by a strange epidemic? Some form of madness? She couldn't explain this strange behavior any other way. And what of Reuben? He had recently come into contact with the soldiers a lot. Had he contracted the same illness?
In the outer courtyard, she found Reuben. He was standing there in his red armor, hands on his hips and a self-satisfied grin on his face as he oversaw his work. Ayla's eyes widened, and she stopped in her tracks when she saw what was going on:
Several soldiers, armed with broomsticks and dustpans, were clearing the courtyard of all remainders of the battle in record speed. Others were atop the wall, running laps around the castle in full armor. A third group practiced archery at an improvised range erected against the soldiers barracks. Ayla noticed that the targets were arranged in such a way that if the soldiers wouldn't hit them, their stray arrows would punch through the wall of their barrack and probably bury themselves in one of their mattresses. That would yield uncomfortable nightly surprises.