The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(31)

A few hours after his invigorating talk with Ayla, Reuben heard voices outside his room.

“I'm sorry, Sir, but nobody is allowed to enter the room with a weapon.”

“Not even me, Hubert?” It was the voice of an old man, but still a strong voice. Reuben fancied he had heard it before. He frowned. Where had that been?

“Um…especially not you, Sir.” The guard sounded embarrassed. “Lady Ayla gave us express orders that you were not to enter this room with a sword in your hand, and that if you were to try, we should…err…stop you.”

“Did she, now? How interesting. And how exactly would you go about stopping me, Hubert?”

“Um…I have no idea, Sir. Now, can you please give me the sword? Please, Sir?”

“Certainly. I don't think it would be a good idea if we were to come to blows, now, would it?”

“Certainly not, Sir.”

There was some shuffling and clanking, then the door opened and an old man stepped inside. His face was wrinkled, but still angular and firm, and he had a neatly trimmed, white beard.

“I remember you,” Reuben said, examining him warily. “You're that old geezer who couldn't ever shut up.”

The old man raised an eyebrow. “I admit, I'm not often characterized in this fashion, but I suppose you are correct. And you are that young fellow who deserves to have his tongue cut out for his insolence.”

“Yes, that's me.” A grim smile flitted over Reuben's face. “I have very often been characterized in this fashion. And yet, my tongue is still firmly attached.”

“I'm not surprised.” The whitebeard's eyes flitted to the giant sword at Reuben's hip. “You carry efficient protection against tongue-cutters.”

Reuben shrugged indifferently. “A merchant has to defend himself on the road.”

“It's better than a candlestick.”

“That it is.”

“And where did you come by this impressive peace of weaponry?” asked Isenbard. “It is a strange thing for a 'merchant' to carry.”

Reuben heard the stress the old man put on the word. There was knowledge behind this man's speech. Dangerous knowledge. Reuben's jaw tightened, and he considered drawing the sword and decapitating the old fool. Slowly, his fingers moved towards the hilt of his weapon.

But then he thought of Ayla. This castle was her home. He couldn't spill blood here. It took so long to be washed off the floor. Besides, he couldn't again shake her trust in him when there was the slightest chance it might be rebuilt. And, oh yes, most people, Ayla probably included, generally considered killing people to be wrong. He remembered that from before he had started enjoying it.

His fingers moved away from the sword hilt again.

Only then did he notice that the old man's eyes had followed his movements closely. For the first time in a long while, Reuben felt uncomfortable under the gaze of another. A feeling that he only remembered from his teachers, back when he had been a young page and then a squire.

“You were ill, weren't you?” the old knight asked.

“Yes,” was Reuben's curt reply. Why had the man asked that? He surely knew it.

“And Ayla nursed you back to health?”

“Yes, she did.” And he had to know that, too. What was his game?

“Ah, yes, Ayla.” The old knight sighed. “She has a good heart, I have to admit. But she has a brain the size of an earthworm's, and she is awfully ugly. I hate to speak ill of my mistress, but so it is. The ugliest girl that I saw in my entire life.”

What in the devil’s name was this? Reuben's face turned red with anger. Ayla trusted this man, called him a friend, and he was insulting her behind her back? In two steps, Reuben was across the room and in front of Isenbard. He towered over the old man, his hand on his sword hilt again.

“I think she is the loveliest young lady that ever walked the earth,” he growled, his voice seething with fury.

“Is that so?” Isenbard inquired calmly.

“Yes! Intelligent and lively, too! And you had better agree or I will make you regret it!”

“Indeed? Well, in that case…” Isenbard sighed, “you're right. She is not bad-looking. And quite smart for a young girl.”

Bah! Reuben stared with contempt at the old knight. Only a coward backed down this easily, even if his claim was preposterous. The next time he saw Ayla, he had to speak with her about her trust in this craven old fool. From what Reuben had seen so far, there was no foundation for it whatsoever.

“You don't like being stuck in here, do you?” Isenbard asked, changing the subject with unexpected abruptness.

Reuben glared at him, still not entirely appeased. “Of course! Wouldn't you hate being stuck in a room all day?”

“You would rather be out there?”

“Yes!”

“Doing what?”

Reuben was silent. No answer came to him. He knew perfectly well what he would like to do. His hand was itching to draw his blade again. But he couldn't tell that to this old man. Why had the man asked, anyway? This was getting more and more awkward. Reuben had no idea what the old man was doing here or what these odd, unconnected questions were leading up to.

“Was there something in particular you wanted?” he asked the old man, wanting to be rid of him.