The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(59)

“Of course, your advice,” Ayla said in a crisp and business-like tone of voice. “If you would be so good as to look over there?”

Reuben gave an affected little bow. “Certainly, Milady.”

He followed Ayla's outstretched arm with his eyes, to where Falkeinstein’s men were still hacking away at the trees of the forest.

“Can you tell me what they are doing?” she demanded.





Flying Death

For a while, Reuben was silent. His forehead creased, and the smile disappeared from his lips. He did not let go of Ayla's hand though. If anything, she felt his grip tighten.

“Hmm…” he muttered at last. “It looks like they're building some kind of siege weapon. But…why? They've got us where they want us.”

And even though that wasn't a very cheering thought, Ayla thrilled to the sound of the last word.

Us.

He was thinking of “us.” Did that mean everybody in the castle or, more precisely, the two of them? She bit her lip. No, now wasn't the time to get distracted by thoughts like that. She had to focus.

“I know it's a siege weapon,” Isenbard said impatiently. “But what is it exactly?”

“Well, it can't be a trebuchet.”[14] Reuben pointed at several of the trees down in the valley that the men were working on. “The pieces are too small. The arm is missing.”

Isenbard frowned. “A trebu-what?”

Reuben waved his hand dismissively. “A trebuchet. It's a siege weapon, a rather recent invention. It…oh, nevermind.” He shook his head. “None of the trees they are felling are big enough to build one. They don't even look large enough for a normal catapult. The only thing that I can think of…hmm…”

He cut off, chewing his lower lip.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Isenbard growled, raising an eyebrow at Reuben. Ayla looked questioningly from the old knight to the young one, but neither saw fit to elaborate.

Reuben nodded, grimly. “Yes, I’m thinking exactly that. But it doesn’t make any sense.”

“No sense at all.” Isenbard nodded back at him just as grimly. “I completely agree.”

“Me, too,” said Ayla. They both turned to stare at her.

“How do you know it’s not making any sense? Do you actually know what we’re talking about?” Reuben wanted to know.

She glared back at them. “No, I don’t know. I think it’s the two of you who aren't making any sense! Can you please tell me what you're talking about before I go mad? What is a trebuthingy?”

“A trebuchet. But, as I said, it’s not one of those. The trees they are felling are too small. And…yes, do you see those, there?” Reuben pointed again, this time at two pieces of wood which had already been cut into shape and were now being rammed into the ground so that they met in mid-air.

“That looks like supports for something,” Ayla said.

“They are. My guess is that they’ll hold in place a central beam of wood, on which, in turn, another beam is placed, with a rope attached at the end. This acts like a staff sling, making it possible to throw stones and other objects over quite some distance.”

“Stones?” gasped Ayla, alarmed. “Does that mean they intend to bombard us?”

“If they are, it will be highly amusing.”

“Amusing? Reuben, how can you say that?” Ayla felt the color drain from her face. “Those are my people you’re talking about! My castle! You can you say it’s amusing, when—“

“Amusing because,” he cut her off, “they cannot throw anything large or dangerous enough to really harm us.”

“Oh.” She felt a blush coming on. “Well, you should have mentioned that.”

“I was just going to. As I said before, what they are building looks like a small, even primitive version of a siege weapon. Look, I’ll show you.” Reuben gestured to one of her guards. The man took a few steps back, looking apprehensive.

“Come here!” Reuben barked. “I need your spear.”

Carefully, the guard approached, stretched out his spear, and handed it to Reuben pointy end first, as if afraid he would be stabbed with it otherwise. Reuben snatched the spear away from the guard and balanced it on his arm, moving it up and down like a lever. Ayla watched, fascinated as he explained the mechanics of death as if it were something perfectly ordinary.

“This arm is placed on top of the middle pole. It moves on a hinge. When men pull on ropes attached to one end, the other end shoots up and, with it, the sling that is attached to it. Inside the sling is the projectile.”

Reuben hit one end of the spear sharply and the other snapped up into the air. Ayla jumped back with a little yelp.

“When it passes the zenith of the rotation movement,” Reuben said calmly, stopping the spear in its track when the sharp end was pointing directly up into the sky, “the sling releases the projectile, which flies towards the target. What happens on impact…”

He breathed in a deep sigh. “Well, that depends very much on the size of the projectile and the toughness of the target. A man-pulled catapult like they are building,” he waved deprecatingly towards the mercenaries as if they weren't even worth his attention, “can maybe smash in the roof of a peasant's hut or crack a wooden barricade. But,” he tapped one of the stone crenels in front of him, “it cannot hope to harm a solid stone castle. It would be like hurling pebbles at a solid oak door. You might scratch it, but you could never break it.”