The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(162)

All in all, he reminded Ayla a bit of Bardo—only that the gigantic carpenter's shoulders weren't weighed down by a thousand worries, as this man's shoulders clearly were, and that Bardo wasn't quite as old. Gray streaked the hair of this man, and there was a sad wisdom in his eyes that only people who have seen too much possess.

What is he doing here? she wondered. What message could the Margrave possibly want to send me? What need is there for words, after we've exchanged blows and Luntberg has emerged victorious?

The herald walked down the hall with hesitant steps. Before the raised chair, he halted and licked his lips. Obviously, he was none too happy about the message he had to deliver.

“I…I bring you greetings from the mighty Margrave von Falkenstein, oh worthless harlot who…”

Before he could get out another syllable, a red-clad figure streaked past Ayla and grabbed him by the neck. The herald was a large man—but nowhere near as large as Reuben. The Red Robber Knight kicked the man's legs out from under him and slammed him into the floor, face first.

“Show proper respect to the lady!” he snarled. “If I hear another foul word from you, I'll cut your throat! And don't think I won't recognize them. I know foul words like old friends!”

“Please, no! Please, Sir Knight, do not kill me! Please, Lady!”

The man tried to raise himself to his knees, but Reuben increased the pressure, and he stayed where he was, his breathing hectic.

“Reuben?” Ayla raised a hand, her eyes fixed on the man at the floor. She wasn't surprised at the insult—it was what she had expected from a herald of the Margrave. What had surprised her was the man's obvious reluctance. “Let him up. And you, man, had better keep a civil tongue, or I cannot guarantee for Sir Reuben's actions. He gets…easily excited.”

The man scrambled to his knees and remained like that, kneeling in front of her. He had nothing in common with the other herald. Ayla wondered why the Margrave would have chosen such a man.

She had her question answered almost immediately.

“I am so sorry, Milady,” the man panted, pleading in his eyes. “The Margrave forced me to say this. He forced me to come here, threatening he'd kill my family if I didn't. None of the other heralds would go, they fled when they heard what the Margrave wanted them to tell you rather than face your anger, but he knew he could use my family as leverage to force me. Please, if you have to torture me, do so, only do not kill me. Without me, my family would…”

Ayla held up a hand to stop his desperate flood of words. Outwardly, her face was calm. But inside, she was filled with rage. A man who did this to one of his own vassals, merely to deliver a series of insults, did not deserve to call himself a knight, much less a margrave. He did not even deserve to call himself a man!

“Speak the words your master has sent you here to speak,” she told the herald in as gentle a voice as she could. “Here at Luntberg, we do not punish the messenger for the insolence of his master.”

“Speak for yourself,” Reuben growled. He still hadn't let go of the man's neck. “I, for one, could think of some interesting ways to punish this worm.”

Ayla sighed. “Reuben?”

“Yes, Milady?”

“Let go of the man's neck.”

“Are you sure? I could…”

She raised an eyebrow. “I believe you told me not too long ago that my wish is your command, did you not?”

The scowl on his face gave way to twitching lips. “Now that you mention it, I believe I did.”

“I wish for you to let go of this man's neck. And apologize to him.”

“As you command, Milady.”

Letting go of the herald's neck, Reuben said, “There you go. I apologize for throwing you to the floor and for wanting to rip out your intestines with a carving knife. Oh, and for the further list of tortures I would like to subject you to, such as squashing your—”

“That will be enough apology from you, Sir Reuben.”

“Are you sure, Milady?”

“Quite sure.”

The herald had paled. Ayla gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile and made a gesture that invited him to continue, and hopefully also reassured him that his intestines wouldn’t be ripped out with a carving knife. For a few moments, there was only silence in the room. Finally, the herald dared meet Ayla’s eyes cautiously.

“Milady, may I continue with my message?”

“You may.”

“And you…?”

The question hung unfinished in the air, but Ayla guessed what it was without much difficulty. She forced a smile on her face.

“And I won't punish you for what it says, rest assured.”

The man lowered his eyes again.

“Thank you, Milady.” His voice was low and thick with emotion. “You are a truly great noble. May God forgive me.”

He reached for the small leather pouch that had fallen to the floor in Reuben's sudden attack. Picking it up, he held it out to Ayla.

“The Margrave ordered me to bring you this. He told me you would know what it meant, though what a Lady such as you would know of such objects of horror is beyond me. He said the thing inside accompanies the words I have to speak.”

More than a little nonplussed, Ayla took the leather pouch and loosened the drawstring. As she turned the leather pouch upside-down, a shiny metal object fell into her palm. It was a metal vice of some sort. Somehow, it looked strangely familiar. She strained to remember where she had seen it before.