The Robber Knight's Secret

17. Nightfall

"No!"

The word was out of Ayla's mouth before she realized it. It had been spoken with such force that it made Waldar, Burchard and every other man in the room jump. Only Reuben didn't seem inclined to view it as a binding order—if there even was such a thing for him.

"It's the only way," he told her. His eyes were on her, smoldering. "I'll have the trebuchet smashed to bits and will be back in the castle in no time. Trust me."

"I said no, Reuben! And that is final! You're not throwing away your life on a suicide mission!"

"You're right." Tugging a dagger out of some hidden place on his body, he grinned at her and began to clean his fingernails in an infuriatingly leisurely manner. "I'm not. I'm going to kill a lot of enemy soldiers and save all our lives. Quite heroic of me, don't you think?"

Mary Mother of God, how can anyone be so infuriatingly arrogant?

Did he really think he was a match for the entire army of the Margrave? Ayla looked at him, at his six foot seven inches of muscle incased in steel, his burning grey eyes and the curved scar on his forehead that seem to mark him as danger incarnate. Yes, of course he thought that. She had a hard time not thinking it herself! But that didn't mean she was going to let him do this!

"You," she told him, putting emphasis on every single word, "are not going."

Reuben just flashed her another devilish grin, and nodded to Theoderich.

"You there! Squire!"

"Yes, Milord! Here I am, Milord!" The young man, startled out of his awed reverence of his master's presence, stood straight.

"Make yourself useful for a change. Run down to the stable and saddle my horse. Try to do it without him biting your head off. I need him tonight and don't want him having stomach aches."

"Yes, Milord. As you wish, Milord!"

"Cancel that order, squire!" Ayla commanded, her cheeks reddening. "Sir Reuben will not need his horse tonight. He'll stay in the castle."

Theoderich, half turned towards the door already, hesitated and glanced back at his master and mistress.

Ayla was glowering at Reuben. The red knight was still smiling, but it was a smile you could cut steel with now. Neither of them was looking at Theoderich. They were too busy staring at each other.

"You heard me," Reuben told his squire. "Saddle Satan. Now!"

The squire blanched. "I would never dare approach the evil one, Milord!"

"I'm talking about my horse, you little blockhead! It's called Satan."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now go and saddle him if you don't want to feel my belt on your scrawny little ass!"

"Y-yes, Milord."

"Don't move an inch, squire!" Ayla commanded, seething. How dare Reuben counter her commands? Admittedly, the boy was his squire and supposed to answer to him, but Reuben was her knight and supposed to answer to her!

And has he ever done so before?

"Um..." Theoderich hesitated, and Ayla could almost see the struggle in his eyes, between disobeying his liege lady, and disobeying a musclebound war-machine who could beat him black and blue if he wanted to. It was a close thing.