The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(163)

When it finally came to her, a cold tingle went down her back. The hand on which the shiny metal device lay began to shake.

There it was: the thumbscrew she had sent the Margrave, along with her defiance, so many months ago. There the thumbscrew lay, freed of rust, polished, and ready for use. Suddenly, she knew what was coming. She knew, although it seemed impossible. They had won! They had beaten the Margrave's army. How could this be happening?

The herald took a deep breath.

“The Margrave wishes me to tell you…wishes me to tell you…” He broke off, shaking his head. His voice was hoarse as he said, “I can't find the words for it myself. I simply can't. You're a noble lady, I can't tell you what…what he told me.”

“Can you quote his words?” Ayla asked gently. Inside, she felt cold as a winter night.

The old man hesitated—then nodded. “I think so. If my tongue can bear the shame.”

He swallowed.

Then he began to speak, slowly and clearly. His voice suddenly sounded distant, artificial, and…cold. Ayla shivered again. Was this what the voice of the Margrave sounded like?

“You sent me a message saying you preferred this to a golden wedding ring?” The herald demanded, pointing at the thumbscrew in Ayla's hand. “Very well, then. I shall take you at your word. I advise you to try it on and accustom yourself to the feeling, for I shall come and put it around your soft little fingers, one after the other, and squeeze until the bones crack. I shall cast you into my deepest dungeon, where nobody shall hear your screams. I shall burn your castle to the ground and kill your father with my bare hands. I shall bring ruin and desolation to your life until nothing is left of it but a shadow which I shall consume!”

The words fell on Ayla like the blows of an executioner's ax. This could not be! It simply could not be! The Margrave was finished! Beaten! This had to be a load of empty threats.

However, when the herald continued to speak, his words didn't sound empty.

“There will be no chance for you to escape this time. No opportunity to surrender. If you will not bend to my will, you must be taught a lesson. And I intend to teach it to you with fire, steel, and blood. As soon as my banners are assembled, I shall ride forth at the head of my army. And then woe betide you that dared to defy the Margrave von Falkenstein.”

When the herald ended, there came a long, long silence. Ayla didn't know how the others felt, but she struggled for something to say, struggled even for the strength to open her lips. Finally, she managed it.

“W-what is this?” she demanded. “What trickery? What empty threats? The Margrave has no soldiers, let alone an army! We destroyed his army, we killed his soldiers!”

In search of affirmation, her eyes wandered to Burchard, who was standing to the left of her chair. The bulky steward just shrugged.

“Don't look at me. I'm no military expert. Though, I have to admit, to me, they looked pretty much dead.”

“They were dead! All of them, the entire army.”

“A mercenary army.”

Ayla's head whipped around to see who had spoken. It was Reuben, his voice unusually calm and self-possessed. He was staring at the kneeling herald with a calculating expression on his face.

“A mercenary army,” Reuben repeated, “brought in from outside the Margrave's domain and promised payment and loot after they had dealt with us. All we achieved by killing them was to free the Margrave of the obligation to empty his coffers to pay them.”

Ayla felt hope slipping away from her. Still, she firmly clung on to it, refusing to accept what she was hearing.

“But still, what army could he send against us? His army is gone!”

“Banners,” Reuben said softly. He made a motion with his head to the kneeling herald. “He said banners. The Margrave is going to call his vassals to arms. Now that his use of mercenaries has failed, he is going to assemble all his liegemen and send his real war machinery against you.”

“But why?” Ayla asked, moisture coming into her eyes. “Why would he do this? Surely, we have demonstrated that we're more trouble than we're worth, that we won't give up easily! Why would he continue to hound us now?”

The three men exchanged looks. Somehow, they all seemed to know something, to understand the motives of the Margrave on some level she could not. What was going on?

“Tell me! Why do this?”

“Because he has been defeated,” Reuben answered gravely.

“That doesn't make sense! If you're defeated, you go away and hope it won't happen again!”

“No.” He shook his head, and Ayla thought she could see a sad smile flicker on his face. “Not if you're a powerful noble. If you are, and you are defeated, you stand up again and attack with everything you have. Backing down is not an option. Especially—“ his eyes focused on her, “—when your opponent is a girl. I know men like the Margrave, Ayla. I've served them, made them, killed them, even been them. Men like that live by their reputation of ruthlessness. He cannot let it get about that he has been beaten by a girl with no experience in war whatsoever. His enemies would surround him, his own men laugh at him and desert.”

“But that is…that is just…”

The herald slowly came to his feet, his head bowed. Reuben stepped away from him and returned to his post by Ayla's side. She was grateful for it. “Begging your pardon, Milady, but the knight is right,” the old messenger ventured in a low voice. He hesitated, and Ayla saw him shiver. “You weren't there when he received the news of Luca's death and defeat. I've seen him fly into a rage before, but this… Three men who had the misfortune to stand too close to him that night lost their heads, simply because they were there. He called his banners that same night, sent out riders into all directions. For the first time in seven years, they were to assemble his full force of liegemen.”