The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(165)

A page bearing the crest of the House of Hohenstaufen awaited Reuben at the foot of the stairs. The boy had long blond locks and an angel’s face and smiled broadly as he bowed to Reuben.

“I'm awaited at the feast,” Reuben began. “My name is—”

“Oh, I know your name, Sir Reuben,” the boy interrupted him eagerly. “I saw you fighting at the tournament. May I say what an honor it is to meet you?”

Reuben grinned. “Yes, you definitely may.”

“Beg your pardon.” The boy put his hand in front of his mouth. “I shouldn't have interrupted you, I'm so sorry. My knight master is always telling me not to interrupt people, but I couldn’t help myself. It was simply unbelievable how you unhorsed Sir Tomasso! Sir Tomasso, who has never been beaten in his life! How did you do it? Can you teach me how to do it? I so wish I could fight as well as you. All the castle is talking about the victory and how nobody has ever heard anything about you before, and people think the Emperor holds you in high esteem, and that makes them talk only more.”

Hurriedly, he put his hand in front of his mouth again. “Oh…um, I think I've talked too much again, haven't I, Sir?”

“A bit,” Reuben said amiably, “but not a lot. I'm in no real hurry.”

The page looked relieved and bowed again. “Well, thank you, Sir. If you'd follow me, I'll lead you to the feast.”

“Excellent. Lead on.”

The page led Reuben up the stairs, never taking his big blue eyes off the knight's towering figure.

“Do you give lessons in swordplay?” the boy asked, yearning in his voice.

“I'm afraid not, no.”

“Oh.”

“So people are talking about me?” Reuben asked, out of interest and because he wanted to wipe the expression of disappointment from the little fellow's face.

It worked. The boy immediately brightened. “Yes, Sir. The gamblers talk because they lost their bets on Sir Tomasso, the knights talk because they're itching to see your swordplay in the melee tomorrow, and the women…” The boy frowned. “Well, I don't really know why the women talk. They giggle and flutter their eyelashes and smile in a funny way, and they talk a lot about you, but I don't know why. After all, they can't be interested in seeing your swordplay, can they?”

“Who knows?” Reuben's grin widened. “Maybe they'd like a private demonstration.”

The boy's frown deepened. “Why? They're ladies. What would they want with a sword?”

“Oh, trust me, they like it if you know how to use it well.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand, Sir.”

“You will, one day, trust me. Just give it a couple of years.”

“As you say, Sir.”

They had reached the door by now. The page bowed and stood aside to let Reuben enter first.

“Welcome to the Royal Palace of Palermo, Sir.”

Fortunately, the muscles in Reuben's jaw were as well-developed as in the rest of his body. Had they not been, he would hardly have been able to prevent his jaw from dropping.

He was used to grand castles. He had grown up in one. But what he saw as grand were buildings made of giant blocks of stones, the walls bare, except for the occasional tapestry or weapons on hooks. The Royal Palace of Palermo had moderately resembled such places from the outside, but on the inside, it was a different world alltogether. Reuben felt as if he had been transplanted from Europe to the court of the eastern Roman Empire, or maybe even further, to Kairo or Baghdad.

The walls here were not bare. They were painted in bright colors—blue, red, green, even gold—in such quantities that it dazzled Reuben's eyes. In some places, he saw resplendent pictures of trees and birds with fantastic plumage, in others, there were dazzlingly complicated abstract patterns he had never laid eyes on before.

The page, noticing his stare, said, “The patterns were left behind by the heathens, from when they ruled this place. I have asked my knight master why they didn't paint pictures. He said it was because their laws forbid any artificial picture of any living thing.”

“Does that mean they have to get by without mirrors?” Reuben asked, grasping for the first thing that came into his stunned mind.

“I don't know, Sir.”

“It would explain why they all have such long beards.”

Reuben hardly heard himself speak. His mind was still fully engaged with the splendor around him as the page led him through the rooms and corridors of the palace. Even in the reddish torchlight that was the night's only illumination, the gold on the wall shone as bright as the sun. It was a scene right out of a fairytale. All that was missing, Reuben thought as he passed under a pointed archway, was a beautiful lady. Or maybe two, or three.

They had entered another corridor, and at its end, a door stood open, spilling out bright light over the relatively gloomy floor outside. Women's laughter could be heard from inside the room, interspersed with excited whispering.

My, my, Reuben thought. Wishes do come true.

The page bowed and pointed to the door. “The feast, Sir.”

“Oh yes.” Reuben heard the women laughing again. “A feast indeed.”

“Can I return to my post, Sir?”

“What? Oh, yes. Go. I shall manage fine from here, I'm sure. This looks promising.”