The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(53)

Even through the leather gorget he was wearing, Reuben could see the guard's Adam’s apple bobbing in terror.

“No sir!”

“Very well then. What will you do now?”

Without hesitation, the guard stepped aside and opened the door for him. “I wish you a pleasant walk up there, Sir.”

“Congratulations. You are a bright young man who I'm sure will go far.”

Reuben stepped into the tower and began to climb the spiral staircase. As he stepped out onto the walkway, several guards turned to him. One or two faces paled as they recognized him, and several of the guards scurried out of the way as he approached. They looked at him as if he were one of the devil's disciples.

Reuben smiled to himself. Soon, they would know better. Once they saw him in action, they would look at him as if he were the devil himself.

Behind him, he could hear the excited whispers of guards—those who had been up and fighting last night—telling their companions all that they had witnessed. Putting on the black cloak seemed kind of redundant now, Reuben mused. The tale would soon be spread all over the castle, and the rumors would get ten times wilder in the telling.

He strode along the entire length of the wall, inspecting all its strengths and weaknesses. He measured the thickness of the wall, the hardness of the stone, the height of the towers, the form of the crenels, the outlay of the gatehouse—but, most important, he measured the height of the wall itself with his astute eye and, in so doing, confirmed his suspicions. He would have to take a look at that grappling hook sometime soon.

“You there!” he barked.

There were two guards standing around, whispering. Both of them turned as if hit with a burning whip. Reuben waved one of them off and then marched towards the other, who looked up at him anxiously. The man was more than a head smaller than Reuben.

“How do you patrol the walls?” he asked, without preamble.

The two looked at each other hesitantly.

“Err…on our feet?” the man suggested. It sounded more like a question.

“I mean,” Reuben repeated, trying not to let his annoyance show, “in groups of how many men do you patrol the wall?”

“Oh. Two, Sir. We go in groups of two, or alone sometimes.”

“Change it to groups of three from now on,” he commanded. That should prevent any further occurrences like the recent attack, if he was right in thinking what he was thinking.

“Err…” The guard exchanged an anxious glance with his comrade, who was waiting farther down the walkway. “I'm not sure what Sir Isenbard would say to that, Sir.”

Slowly, Reuben took a step towards him and gave him a good, long look.

“And is Sir Isenbard here?”

“No, Sir! Three guards, Sir! It shall be as you command, Sir!”

“Yes, it shall.”

Without another word, he turned and went away.

Satisfied that he knew everything there was to know about the outer defenses, he climbed down the spiral staircase again and repeated the same procedure at the inner wall. There, too, some of the guards threw him fearful looks. Reuben ignored them and continued with his task.

~~*~~*

Sir Luca DeLombardi listened to the tale of Jos the lookout into the early hours of the morning. Then he called three men and ordered them to take Jos and dunk him into a barrel of water until he was sober enough to tell the truth.

“Fiamme dell'inferno,” he cursed as the protesting Jos was dragged off and Conrad entered the tents. “Where do you find those fools, Conrad?”

“Jos is many things, Sir,” Conrad said without letting his feelings show, “but a fool he is not.”

“Indeed? Then how do you explain his fairytale? According to him, there seems to be some kind of demon in that castle!”

“I don't know how to explain it, Sir. I have never met a demon. I do not know whether such things exist, but…”

He broke off.

“But? But? You were going to say something more, Conrad?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good.” Sir Luca crossed the space between them and placed himself directly before Conrad, peering at him with his small, beady eyes.

“You say you do not know whether demons exist, Conrad. But do you believe that they do?”

The mercenary hesitated for a moment—then shook his head. “No, Sir.”

“Very good. See that it stays that way. Still, we have a problem. Do you know what it is?”

“What, Sir?”

Sir Luca spat on the ground. “The men believe they exist. They will soak up that fellow's tale like a dried-up old sponge. See to it that your man is kept away from the others for the time being. And, if he has not changed his tune by tomorrow evening and told us what really happened up there on the wall, have his throat cut quietly, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sir Luca stepped back from the mercenary and turned to the darkest corner of the tent. He stood like this for a while, obviously brooding, until Conrad dared to ask,“What now, Sir?”

“What now?” The voice of his commander sent a shiver down Conrad's back. “That depends greatly on your influence over a certain individual in the castle, as you well know.”

Conrad shifted. “That influence doesn't look too good at the moment. Perhaps we should just wait. We could sit out the siege and wait until they have to…”