The Robber Knight's Secret

49. Love in the Open

Reuben felt increasingly uneasy over the next few days, for a variety of reasons.

First and foremost, of course, there was Ayla. She hardly spoke to him and avoided him like the plague. The one time he had tried to drag her into an alcove and make her swoon with passionate kisses, her knee in his groin had made clear she wasn't having any of it. Not that he had actually felt the blow, of course—but he thought he owed it to her to let go and groan dramatically. He did love her, after all.

She was obviously upset with him for some reason. More than once, he had tried to waylay her in the corridors and throttle the truth out of her, but to no success. She simply swept past him without a glance.

Ayla wasn't the only one who was upset with him. Fye, on hearing what had passed between him and Ayla, had threatened to stab him in his sleep. When he pointed out to the girl that it was on her suggestion he had conceaded to that infernal notion of marriage, she wacked him with her stick.

Women! They were all the same.

Sir Reuben the robber knight was feeling badly misunderstood.

And finally, there were the recruits. Not that there was anything wrong with their training. No, everything seemed to be going just fine in that direction. The men's and women's shooting improved every day, and their confidence grew at an even greater pace.

However, again and again he caught some of them at throwing him strange, thoughtful looks, as if he were a rooster in a coming cock fight. More than once he saw coins or small trinkets being surreptitiously exchanged, and when he demanded to know what was going on, nobody would answer him, not even when he threatened to roast the people involved over an open fire.

Finally, when he saw a fat peasant handing three silver coins to one of his friends, and caught the name "Ayla" among some muttered instructions, he lost it.

"Tell me!" He roared, stepping out from behind the corner and grabbing the peasant by the collar. "Tell me right now what is going on, or, by Satan's fungus-farting breath, I'll strangle you right here and now!"

"I... Milord, I... "

"Now, you clay-brained son of a toad!"

"I... I can't, Milord."

"Right! You asked for it...!"

"Reuben! Let the man go, at once!"

Reuben sighed. Even if he hadn't recognized the voice immediately, he would have known who it was. It was, of course, the only person in the castle who dared to give him orders, and knew that—sometimes—they would actually be obeyed.

Slowly, he set the man to the ground and relaxed his grip on the collar.

Ayla appeared beside him, glaring up at him. It was the first time she had looked him in the eye since he had, in a fit of temporary madness, offered to marry her.

"Apologize to him!"

"Why, hello, Milady. It is nice to speak to you, too, after such a long time."

"I said apologize to him! Now!"

Reuben looked down at the cowering peasant consideringly. Finally, he sighed, and nodded. "I apologize. I should not have called you a clay-brained son of a toad."

Ayla nodded. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Not," Reuben continued to the peasant, "when you're so obviously the clay-brained son of a slimy little limpet."

"Reuben!"

He earned another glare from Ayla, and bowed to her, smiling slightly. "I would say much worse things to be graced with the bewitching gaze of your beautiful blue eyes, Milady."