The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(15)

Isenbard showed no emotion except for a slight tightening of his jaw. “How?”

“There was a nocturnal attack. It was fended off, but it was nothing more than a ruse—a distraction. While all our soldiers were fighting to protect the enemy from crossing the bridge, more of Falkenstein's men crossed the river with boats. The night was pitch-black, and we didn't see them. They could have taken us totally by surprise and massacred every last one of us.”

Confused, Isenbard’s gaze wandered from the door through which the obviously unmassacred villagers had just left to Ayla, and from Ayla back to the door.

“But then…how come that all of you are still very much alive?”

Pain shot through Ayla's heart at the memory.

No! she told herself. He didn't do it because he has feelings for me! He did it out of selfishness, out of self-preservation. He would have died along with the rest of us if Falkenstein had succeeded.

“Reuben warned me,” she whispered.

The old knight's eyebrows shot up. “Reuben? That fellow I shared a room with until recently?”

“The very same.” Ayla hesitated for a second, then added hastily, “He's been giving me military advice.”

“I thought,” Isenbard continued, a frown creeping on his wrinkled forehead, “that he said he was a merchant.”

Ayla suddenly felt as if she was being pulled into two directions. She realized that now the time of decision had come. Would she give up Reuben's secret? If ever she had trusted someone, relied on someone, it was Isenbard. He was her father's oldest and most trusted friend, her loyal mentor and defender. He had fought for her, bled for her, and if the time came, she did not doubt that he would die for her.

Surely she could trust him?

Of course, there was the point to consider that, if he knew the truth, Isenbard would, as soon as he was better, maybe before, jump up from this litter, get himself a sword, and challenge Reuben the robber knight to a duel to the death.

But wasn't that what should happen? Shouldn't Reuben be punished for his crimes? And this way, it occurred to her, she wouldn't even have to give the order to hang him. It would all happen by itself. Slowly, she opened her mouth and wet her dry lips.

~~*~~*

Since there was nobody around who could act as a punching bag, Reuben pounded the wall instead, yet that didn't bring the same kind of relief.

The guards were the problem. The guards, and thus his confinement to this infernal room. For the foreseeable future, he would be stuck in here, within thirty square feet of space. And that wasn't what he wanted at all. Reuben was sure that to win the heart of a lady a radius of movement of a hundred feet was an absolute minimum.

What could a prisoner do?

Again, Reuben struck out at the wall blindly and cursed in surprise when his fist, instead of hitting the stone wall, hit the rough wood of the garderobe.[4]

He stared at the wooden wardrobe for a moment—a wardrobe built into the outside wall of the keep. A wardrobe with no floor.

Slowly, a devilish grin spread over his face. There was always one thing a prisoner could do: escape!





Surrounded

“Yes.” The words tumbled out of Ayla’s mouth almost against her own volition. “He is a merchant. A merchant dealing in arms. That is why he knows some things about war, I suppose.”

“I see.” Isenbard still didn't look convinced. “I could swear I saw him before he arrived here, though! And most certainly not behind a stall, selling daggers and knives.”

“Oh, really?” Ayla tried to laugh, but it didn't seem quite natural. “Well, he has a very common face, the kind of face you see everywhere.”

“Common?”

“Oh yes. And ugly. Very ugly.”

Confusion wrinkled Isenbard's brow. “Well…he has a scar, to be sure, but I wouldn't call him ugly.”

“I would. Ugly and unpleasant,” Ayla prattled on. Silently, she cursed herself and cursed Reuben ten times more. What was she thinking? What was she saying? She had concealed Reuben's true identity from Isenbard. She had concealed the fact that she was harboring a thief and a traitor from her most trustworthy defender! Was she insane?

And now, fearing that Isenbard had somehow seen Reuben before, she was trying to distract him with the most inane babbling ever heard in the walls of Luntberg Castle. What was the matter with her?

Isenbard regarded her sternly. “Well, I thought he wasn't very well-behaved. But I thought you liked him.”

“I? Certainly not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Probably the way you cried your eyes out when he fell down the stairs and almost broke his neck the other day?”

Ayla flinched as he reminded her of that. “No, no. It's just the stress that has been getting to me,” she maintained.

Isenbard didn't swallow her excuse as easily as Burchard had. His eyes narrowed in suspicion for a moment—but then he let it go.

“We have more important matters to discuss right now. How goes the defense, Milady?”

“Well, that kind of depends on how you look at it.”

“How do you look at it?”

Isenbard never had been one to ask easy questions. Ayla forced herself to remain calm. He needed to know this.

“Well, on the one hand, everybody is safe behind the castle walls. You know Luntberg Castle. You know that it will not be easily stormed.”