The Robber Knight's Secret

58. Ordeal by Fire

Slowly, Reuben raised his bloody sword towards the night sky. He wasn't exactly sure how that much blood had gotten on it, after all, his final stabs into the stomach and heart of the twitching remains of the Margrave had been done with a dagger, and not his sword. But he was exceedingly pleased about the bloodiness. The glistening gore produced a nice effect for his hundreds of awed onlookers.

"Victory!"

His shout was echoed in a renewed roar out of hundreds of throats. Men, women, even children who, regardless of the danger, had rushed onto the walls to watch his duel with the Margrave were cheering and crying and throwing their hats in the air.

"Reu-ben! Reu-ben! Reu-ben!"

Tilting his head back, Reuben let the worship of the crowd wash over him. Being the victorious hero instead of the villain who burned, pillaged and murdered everything in sight—his usual role—had some advantages. For example, there were more people left to cower at your feet and lick your boots.

With relish he let his eyes wander over the hundreds that were now in his hands, both on the wall and down here. And then, finally, he let his gaze travel to the one whose worship he most wished for, the one whose enemy he had just crushed. He couldn't wait to meet her blue eyes and read in them her utter adoration.

There! There she is!

Ayla stood where he had left her, high upon the wall, over the inner gate. Her arms were raised just like those of any other person in the courtyard. Reuben took a step forward. What would she say? What would she do?

She stiffened. The joy which had suffused her features just a moment ago bled away and was replaced with an expression of horror. Then, her arms fell abruptly to her side and she turned her back on him.

What?

Reuben uttered a wordless growl. All right, he hadn't been expecting her to be so grateful that she'd drag him off to her bedchamber and offer up her virginity—although that would have been nice. But he'd at least expected her to plaster him with passionate kisses, or smile at him, not present him with her backside, and fully clothed at that!

He was just starting forward to give that little wench a piece of his mind when he saw the red glow around her. Other people had noticed it, too. Up on the wall, a few turned around. Reuben couldn't see the reaction on their faces, but he heard their screams. And then he smelled the smoke.

No! Stinking pestilential boiling pits of hell full of rotten demon entrails, no! That smoke couldn't mean what he thought it meant. Not after how hard they had fought! Not after everything! How could this have happened?

That question was answered only a moment later, when from high up on the wall, mad laughter drifted down towards Reuben.

"There it is, you heretics and infidels: your punishment!" The voice was high and hoarse, and clearly hadn't been used in a long time. Its owner seemed very determined to make up for that neglect, though. "You will burn! Burn first in the flames of your own arrogance, and then in the fires of hell!"

Screams came from the wall, and more mad laughter. Reuben's eyes flew to its origin. There he stood: Gernot the fanatic, dressed in his dirty prison rags, his eyes wide and lit with a wild light.

And not any wild light, either. Reuben knew what he was talking about: he had seen wild lights flicker in the eyes of a thousand enraged enemies. This wasn't just the sort of wild light you'd see in the eyes of a man who wanted to kill his enemy. This was the sort of wild light you'd see in the eyes of a man who thought the whole world was his enemy, and wanted to burn it down.