The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(185)

“Here? In front of everyone?” The servant cleared his throat. “Please, Sir Reuben, allow me to make clear that the message is of a private nature. If you would just be so kind as to dismount for a moment and come over here, behind this tent—“

“Of course! Wait a moment!”

Reuben signaled to the herald, holding up two fingers. The herald nodded and proclaimed, “There will be a short break for the contestants to rest. We shall continue in a few minutes.”

Ignoring the disappointed sounds from the crowd, Reuben slid down off his horse and followed the servant behind the tent.

When he was gone, a figure sidled closer to his horse. It was already getting dark, but in the faint light of the sinking sun, a knife blade gleamed.

~~*~~*

“…and Lady Salvatrice also bid me to tell you that she sends her love. She will be with you through every strike and blow. She wishes you to know that you alone possess her heart and are the master of her soul.”

“Aaah…” Reuben gave a sigh. “What wonderful words to hear from the mouth of one’s beloved.”

The servant shifted. “Err…yes. Probably.”

“Thank you!” Reuben stepped towards him and impulsively pulled him close into a crushing embrace. “You have given me the strength I need to be victorious!”

“I have?” wheezed the servant.

“Oh, yes. And I won’t forget it. Against my enemies I am merciless, but my friends I reward well.”

For some reason, the face of the servant turned a shade paler at that. “Um…really? I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for your kindness, Sir Reuben.”

“It’s not kindness. It’s the simple truth.” Patting the man on the back, Reuben turned. “We’ll talk more when the joust is over.”

“I…look forward to it.”

Leaving the pale servant behind him, Reuben strode out from behind the tent. He felt as if he could kill a giant! The strength of love was coursing through his veins. No wonder all those knights of old had been able to perform such wondrous deeds! All the best knights in the court of King Arthur had had a lady to admire, love, and revere. And now he had one, too! And not just any lady, but the fairest, most loveable creature in the whole wide world.

Suddenly, walking wasn’t fast enough for Reuben anymore. He started running and leaped into the saddle. His mount, as if fired by his enthusiasm, shied and nearly bucked. Reuben laughed.

“Ho, Ajax! It’s just me!” Ajax quieted and pawed the ground. Reuben barked a laugh. “Anxious for the fight, eh?” His eyes focused on Lord d’Altavilla at the other end of the lists. “Believe me, Ajax, so am I. So am I.”

“Ready?” asked the herald, nodding to Reuben.

Reuben nodded in answer. His squire rushed to him to hand him his helmet, lance, and shield.

“Ready?” asked the herald in the direction of Lord d’Altavilla. The Sicilian Lord nodded, too.

“This is the final joust,” the herald declared. “Whosoever winneth this joust shall be champion and greatest of all the knights in the Kingdom of Sicily. He shall receive a sword beset with jewels and two of the best horses from the Emperor’s stables.”

And a lot more things besides. Reuben’s eyes rose to where Lady Salvatrice was sitting in her box. Things infinitely more valuable than horses or jewels.

In spite of the helmet he was wearing now, everyone seemed to know where his eyes were. Instead of looking at the two knights about to charge, the entire crowd gazed up at Salvatrice. She looked more queenly and beautiful than ever.

God! Reuben felt his heart squeeze almost painfully. I swear, today I’m going to win her love—or I’ll be damned!

“Once more,” the herald demanded, “are you both ready?”

Two lances dipped in answer.

“Then we can begin. On the count of three. One…two… Laissiez-les aller!”

Ajax was so agitated, he shot forward when Reuben’s heels had barely touched his sides. Through the slits of his visor, Reuben’s eyes focused on the man rushing towards him: d’Altavilla. Once that man was out of the way, his path to Salvatrice would be clear. He had to get him off that horse! If ever he’d needed to win a joust, it was today.

Oh heavenly Father, stand by me! Help me, just this once! For victory, for love—help me!

Reuben’s lance came down in a sweeping arc. He took aim, tightened his grip—

Crash!

And then, suddenly, he was flying—flying off his horse! But no! How could this be? D’Altavilla’s strike hadn’t been that hard. It could never have knocked him out of his saddle!

He barely had time to realize that the saddle was still under him, torn away from Ajax’s back—no, not torn, cut!—before he reached the peak of his trajectory and began to plummet towards the earth again.

God! The thought shot through his head. Do you hear me, God? You are going to pay for this!

Then pain exploded in his chest, and a maelstrom of darkness swallowed him.

THE END