The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(55)

Isenbard’s eyes flared.

“Is that so? Well, we shall see.” He turned slightly to follow Reuben's movement. “Let the duel begin. Have at you, Sir!”

And he charged.

Reuben let his blade fly forward, striking his enemy's sword not head-on but sideways and ducking out of the way. Normally, he would have reigned down a hailstorm of steel on his opponent—but normally, he was fighting for his life. He did not know whether this was the case right now, did not know how far Isenbard intended to go. Yet he was not ready to kill Ayla's closest friend and advisor.

Well, not just yet, anyway. Better to have a bit of fun first, wasn’t it?

Jumping back and whirling around to face his enemy again, he found the old knight not on his next attack, but in a defensive pose, waiting. He didn't seem to be in the mood for attacking again. The two knights began to circle each other. As they did, Reuben saw the other's eyes follow every one of his movements closely, examining and judging.

This was what gave him the clue he needed.

He truly means to test me, he thought gleefully. He means to hold back and find out how good I am with a sword. He wished he had his helmet on and visor down: it was quite hard to keep the smirk off his face. The old fool had no idea. We will see how he likes the tables being turned on him.

Reuben lunged.

It was a very fast movement, yet still the old knight evaded it with ease. He stepped aside and whirled towards Reuben’s flank, where he had left himself open in the attack. The old knight's blade came up towards his opponent’s undefended side, and he had a smile on his face.

This was the moment Reuben had been waiting for.

His left hand shot out over to his right side, grasping Isenbard's swordarm at the wrist and, tugging hard, propelled it over Reuben's right arm, far past its target. Then, Reuben yanked it down, simultaneously lifting his right shoulder.

Isenbard was jerked off his feet and, armor and all, sent flying over Reuben's arm, over the rest of him and ten feet through the air. With a muffled yelp, he smashed into a wooden stable wall. The old wood gave way beneath him. There was a crash, then a thump and a whinny as the old knight rather forcefully interrupted some horse's morning defecation.

All around, the guards exchanged looks of outrage and bewilderment. None of them had ever imagined anything but Sir Isenbard winning a glorious victory.

They’ve probably never witnessed a knight being tossed into a pile of horse shit, either, Reuben thought with a smirk.

He waited, casually leaning against the stable wall, whistling a merry tune. This might actually be fun.

One minute elapsed.

Then another one.

Finally, Sir Isenbard emerged from the stable door. He was helmetless now. His white beard and hair were a bit less orderly than before, and there were a few brown stains on his armor.

His eyes glittered like ice.

“You, Sir,” he observed curtly, “are a rogue and a scoundrel!”

Reuben raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And?”

“And nothing.” Isenbard made a face, as if forced to swallow something unpleasant. Reuben's eyebrow went up a little farther, and now he couldn't keep the smirk off his face.

“You wish a more chivalrous defender for your liege lady, Sir Isenbard?”

Isenbard's scowl deepened, making an answer unnecessary. Reuben's smirk widened.

“You can always try to beat some manners into me.”

The scowl disappeared and was replaced by a fierce smile. “That sounds like a very good suggestion to me.”

Again, Isenbard assumed a ready stance. “But I warn you, Sir Reuben—from now on, I will not hold back!”

“Good.” Reuben pushed himself away from the stable wall, and his sword came up into a front guard. “That will make it more fun.”

Isenbard snorted. “Don't be so overconfident. You have never seen me fight.”

And you, Reuben thought, have not seen me fight, or you perhaps might not be standing here.

The old knight sprang forward, swinging his sword, and this time, Reuben did not evade him. He met him frontally, delighted at Isenbard's speed. This was going to be even more interesting than he had thought!

Isenbard's mighty blow landed full on Reuben's sword—and was stopped right there. Reuben didn't waver, didn't even move back an inch to accommodate and catch the force of his opponent's blow. He just stopped Isenbard's sword right where he wanted to.

Grunting in surprise, the old knight exerted more of his still considerable strength, pushing against Reuben's weapon until his jaw was clenched and a vein was throbbing on his temple. Reuben judged the time right to let go. So he slid sideways, making the old knight, who found himself suddenly pushing at nothing but air, stumble forward.

“Careful, graybeard! Don’t stumble!”

Reuben couldn’t strike. His sword was too far away, and Isenbard was too quick, he was already turning. So instead, before Isenbard could turn around and face him, Reuben took aim, lifted his foot and delivered a solid kick to his hindquarters.

Whirling around, Sir Isenbard exclaimed, “What the…have you not a shred of honor, Sir?”

Reuben chewed on his lip for a moment, as if pondering the question. “No, not really,”

“But to kick a knight in the…in the…”

“The word is ‘ass,’” Reuben helped him out graciously, then mused, “This must be a local thing, these holes in your vocabulary. Only the other day, I was having a talk with Lady Ayla. She didn't seem to be able to pronounce a few of the words I used, either.”