The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(47)

Both of them paled as if they had seen a ghost.

“What, pray,” asked Isenbard, his voice gruff, “do you mean by 'a little'?”

“They put a knife to my throat and tried to drag me out of the castle.”

Burchard swore. Ayla gave him a reproachful look. “Burchard! You know I do not like people befouling God's clean air!”

He looked contrite. “Yes, Milady, but by all things holy…kidnap you…”

His words were interrupted by Sir Isenbard, who closed the rest of the distance between him and Ayla and fell to his knees in front of her.

“I am sorry, Milady,” he said, his voice breathless. “I have failed you. I have broken my oath of fealty and protection. If you wish, you may have me hanged from the highest tower of Luntberg castle for the crows to feast on, as an example to all who falter in your service.”

Ayla felt her knees shake. She had known Isenbard since she was a little girl, and thus she knew this was no false promise. He meant what he said. The magnitude of his offer took her breath away. Not so much the fact that he thought he deserved to die—Isenbard was a knight as brave as any and had faced death many a time.

No, it was the thought that he believed he deserved to be hanged that shook her innermost core. Only common criminals were hanged—the nobility, even if they had betrayed their duty to their liege lord, were given the honor of the executioner's ax.

Quickly, Ayla fell to her knees and grabbed the old knight by his shoulders. There were tears in her eyes. “Uncle Ironbeard, get up! Why on earth would I want to execute you? You of all people?”

“Because I have failed you,” he repeated, keeping his eyes cast down, his stony, hard face impassive. Ayla swallowed. He really believed this! But she couldn't have him despair—she needed him too much. Her people needed him too much.

“Sir Isenbard,” she said in a more official tone. Being emotional wouldn't serve her now. He thought he had failed his liege lady, so she had to act the liege lady. “You were still recuperating from your injuries. You were asleep, as I ordered, and not on guard duty.”

He remained silent.

“Would you punish a soldier for not noticing an enemy infiltration if he was not on guard duty, but asleep with his comrades?”

Sir Isenbard hesitated, then reluctantly replied, “No, Milady.”

“So you have just admitted that the punishment you demand of me is unjust, have you not?”

He sighed. “Yes, Milady.”

“Then can you tell me why I should punish you?”

“Because I may not have been on duty—but it is my duty to always help you, and I did not.” But she could not feel force behind his words anymore. She had won him back.

“You do,” she said, softening her voice. “You always do. Now rise, Sir Isenbard.”

Slowly, he did as she asked.

“Others helped you last night,” he insisted stubbornly. Then he frowned. “By the way…who did wrest you from the clutches of the intruders?”

If she hadn't been strictly opposed to bad language, Ayla would have cursed herself right then and there. Why did he have to ask that question out of all possible questions?

“Err…the castle guards,” she murmured hurriedly. “Yes, the castle guards did.”

“Really?” Burchard looked impressed. “I must admit, I wouldn't have thought they had it in them.”

Isenbard looked suspicious again. “The castle guards?”

“Yes.” She flushed. “Captain Linhart got me away from the intruders.”

It was true, in a sense. He had gotten her away, after she had landed on top of him.

“Did he, now.” Thoughtfully, the old knight stroked his white beard. For a moment, she could have sworn his eyes flickered towards the keep, to the window of Reuben's room. But no, he couldn't possibly…

“How did the intruders get in?” he asked suddenly, breaking her train of thoughts.

“That I don't know,” she admitted, frowning. “Captain Linhart and a few of his men started to search the perimeter last night. I haven't gone to inquire after the results yet, so I don't know what they might have found.”

“I think we're about to find out,” said Burchard, pointing along the allure. “Look!”

A few dozen feet away, Captain Linhart and two soldiers were hurrying along the battlements towards them, grim expressions on their faces.





The Rathole

“We've found it,” were Captain Linhart's first words, as soon as he was close enough to be heard. “Come.”

He led Ayla, Burchard, and Isenbard along the battlements, until they reached a section that was out of sight of the main tower. The perfect spot for an attack. Between two of the crenels, a strange metal object was fastened: hook-shaped and sharp, like several giant serpent-teeth fastened together, it looked like it wanted to bite its way right through the stone of the castle wall. In the very center, a rope was attached, falling down on the outside of the wall.

“What is that?” asked Ayla, aghast.

“It's called a grappling hook,” said Isenbard darkly. “They're not as common in sieges as they used to be. As the walls of castles got higher, it's been getting harder and harder to throw them high enough—that’s why armies use siege towers nowadays. I wouldn't have thought a grappling hook could be thrown this high, or I would have mentioned the matter. They must have a man in their army with an arm like Hercules, or they have one of those confounded new machines, like a giant crossbow on wheels. I've heard they can shoot grappling hooks incredibly high.”