The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(91)

Finally, Sir Waldar cursed. Reuben raised an eyebrow, impressed. As a connoisseur, he could tell that this had been an exemplary piece of infamy. He wouldn't have thought the old drunkard had it in him.

“It can't be,” Captain Linhart said, his voice hoarse.

Sir Waldar cursed again.

Lady Ayla didn't even bother to admonish him, which Reuben found slightly unfair, since she took every opportunity to try and cure him of cursing. But he supposed that, at the moment, she had weightier problems on her mind.

“Isn't there some other way the enemy could have gotten that grappling hook over the wall?” Burchard wanted to know. “Some other siege engine that we don't know about, or some trick?”

“Like what?” Ayla sked.

“Err…I don't know. I would have to think about it. But I'm sure I could think of something.”

“Of course. We'll just ask the enemy not to attack us while you're at it. Take your time.”

Burchard's mustache bristled. “Now, listen here…”

“No, you listen!” Ayla interrupted him. “We can all argue about it as long as we want, but the fact won't change: We have a traitor in the castle, and we have to take care of him, or he'll sell us all to the enemy.”

“How did you find out about this?” he demanded, his massive eyebrows drawing together in an angry frown. “How did you suddenly become so knowledgeable about grappling hooks and ballistas?”

“I believe the plural is ‘ballisti.’”

“I don't care what the plural is! I just want to know how you supposedly found all of this out!”

Reuben expected it, and it happened. Ayla wasn't able to keep her eyes from flickering into his direction. Both Burchard and Sir Waldar saw it.

“Him?” Burchard demanded. “He told you? Is that why he is here?”

“He is here because he is more experienced in warfare than any of us,” Ayla answered in a quiet voice.

“And how come?” Sir Waldar had now lost interest in cursing and in his empty tankard. He was leaning forward over the table, his little eyes were wandering between Ayla and Reuben. “Who is he, anyway?”

“He’s supposed to be a merchant,” Burchard answered the question. He looked over at Reuben in his monumental, blood-red plate armor with a giant sword strapped to his belt. “Lately, I've begun to have serious doubts about that.”

“Understandable,” grunted Sir Waldar. “I think either he or you owes us an explanation, Milady.”

Reuben tensed. His eyes flashed to Ayla, whose face gave nothing away. Did she intend to give them the truth? If she did, Reuben knew he was finished. Burchard and Captain Linhart would not tolerate a criminal among their number, moreover one who had robbed their mistress. He would be lucky if he was put to death quickly.

He waited, his heart beating faster than usual.

“No,” Ayla said. “I do not have to explain myself to you, and Reuben's secrets are his own. None of that is the real issue here. The issue is: do you trust my judgment? Do you trust my word? Do you trust me to lead you?”

She stood and bent over the table, supporting herself with both hands on the rough wood.

“Or do you doubt the veracity of my word, Sirs? Do you think I would lie to you, do you think I would accuse one of my subjects unjustly?”

They all shrank from her gaze.

Then, the one person Reuben would never have believed capable of making a contribution spoke up.

“T-the facts as you have outlined seem to be undeniable, Milady,” Sir Rudolfus stammered in a low voice. “I do not know much about siege weapons or grappling hooks, but everything as you have outlined it was supported by logical arguments. I cannot deny the truth of your words, however much I might wish to. There is a traitor in the castle.”

Ayla nodded at him. “Thank you, Sir Rudolfus.” Then she turned towards her steward. “Burchard?”

He bit on his over-bushy mustache. “As much as I'd like to deny it, I can't,” he finally admitted. “What you've said makes sense.”

Her gaze wandered towards to Sir Waldar. He grumbled something unintelligible, but he too nodded.

Finally, her gaze landed on Captain Linhart.

“Captain?”

“Aye.” He nodded gravely. “I do not doubt you, Milady.”

“So we're all agreed that we have a traitor among us?” She gave all of them one final chance to object. But, to Reuben's relief, they lowered their eyes and nodded, submitting to her judgment.

“Very well,” she breathed. “Then the only thing that remains is: What are we going to do about it?”

Reuben straightened in his seat. His time to speak had arrived. He hadn't had a chance yet to talk to Ayla about the measures he had already taken to protect the castle from treachery. Last night, she hadn't been in any state for such a discussion. He would have preferred to talk it through quietly with her before discussing it in the open, but they had no time for such luxuries.

“May I speak, Milady?” he asked, using his best courtly voice. It was a bit rusty. He hadn't tried to sound subservient for more than five years in a row now. But he still managed a passable approximation of the tone.

“Certainly, Sir Reuben.” She nodded at him. Burchard's, Rudolphus’s, and Waldar's eyes flew wide open as they heard the title by which she addressed him: Sir—the title of a knight. For a moment, they looked as though they were about to interrupt and start questioning, but they held back.