The Robber Knight's Secret

12. Down there in the Dark

Ayla knocked softly against the oak door. She never knew when he was asleep these days. He was getting old, after all, and the last thing she wanted to do was to disturb him.

"Enter, daughter," Count Thomas von Luntberg called.

Ayla pushed the door open and stuck her head through the crack.

"How did you know it was me?" she demanded. The old count, surrounded by mountains of cushions on his bedstead, gave a little snort. "You're the only one who knocks as softly as the steps of a sneaking squirrel, Ayla. You don't nead to sneak around me. I'm not a corpse just yet. Can you help me get rid of a few of these?" He tugged at one of the pillows. "I think that woman you saddled me with is trying to suffocate me."

"She's just taking good care of you," Ayla said, reprovingly. Quickly, she came the rest of the way into the room and hurried over to her father to grab his hand and prevent him from shoving the cushions away. "It was very kind of her to agree to look after you, and she is doing excellent work. You need to rest, and why not be comfortable?"

"Maybe because we're at war?"

"Sir Reuben is taking care of that."

"I know. So, how did the battle go?"

Ayla jumped, guiltily. "Battle? What battle?"

The Count smiled up at her, sadly. "What, did you think because you had the servant close the window shutters I wouldn't realize there was a battle going on outside? You could hear the clatter and screaming from miles away, Ayla. I even heard some strange rumbling sound, as if a whole castle was collapsing. They haven't attacked the walls yet, have th—?"

He broke off as a coughing fit wrecked his frame.

"Father! Father, are you all right? Father?" Ayla leaned forward, picking him up and pressing him against her chest, trying to pat stroke his back and sooth the cough. "Shh. Everything is going to be alright. You're going to be alright. Just relax. Please, Father."

Slowly, the cough subsided, and Ayla let the Count sink back onto the cushions. Only then did she realize with what ease she had picked him up—a man once so powerful and muscled she couldn't even have lifted one of his arms.

Ayla shook her head. She could feel moisture brimming in her eyes. It was torture to see him like this—a far more potent torture than any Reuben had suggested inflicting upon the two captured knights.

"W-why did you try to keep the battle from me, daughter? Did you think you had to do it to spare me the anxiety?" The count tried to chuckle, but it almost ended in a second coughing fit, and he stopped quickly. "I've lived through many a battle, Ayla, and during most of them I wasn't save behind thick stone walls in a comfortable bed. My old heart won't give up that easily, as least not as long as you're safe. You were, weren't you?"

"I was." Ayla felt her mouth tighten. "Reuben made me stay behind."

"I believe I'm starting to like that boy more and more with every passing day," the Count commented, merrily. "How did he manage to convince you to stay? It's more than I could ever do."

"He... he threatened to tie me up and lock me in my room."

"Hmm." The Count stroked his long white beard in contemplation. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't he supposed to be your vassal? I my day, that meant you are supposed to give him orders, not the other way around."

"It still does. Reuben has just a slightly... unconventional view of authority."

"Hmm. I see. And how did our unconventional commander do in battle?" The Count raised one withered hand and gestured to the window. "Due to the thick wooden boards blocking my view, I didn't exactly catch much of what was going on."