Over the next few days, Ayla was busy planning the reconstruction of everything that had been destroyed. There were a hundred things to discuss with the villagers: how big the church should be, since the village population had grown since its foundation, where to put the smithy, for fear of a fire breaking out, and, and, and.
Ayla soon found that her intention of rebuilding everything just the way it had been was impractical. Rebuilding everything better than it had been was a much more rewarding idea. It would mean that, out of all this destruction, there would at least come some good.
She even contemplated building a road between the village and the castle. Not just a dirt or gravel path, but a real road, made out of cobblestones. It would be a costly endeavor, no doubt, but it would mean quicker and easier passage from the village to the castle, more trade in the area, and something for her people to be especially proud of, as they worked together in rebuilding their lives.
While she was busy looking after her people, Reuben took care of the few enemy mercenaries whom they had taken prisoner in the last battle. The six of them went into a room with him and were shut up there for about an hour.
Ayla didn't know what exactly Reuben said or did, but at the end of the hour, of the six, only five mercenaries left the room, all of whom were suddenly very eager to join Lady Ayla's service. Pay? Why would they expect pay? No, it would be a great honor to serve such a great lady as her, if only she please, please, please didn't punish them, please!
“What did you do to them?” she whispered to Reuben.
“Me?” he asked innocently. “Why would you think that I did anything?”
Ayla chose to let it go. She had plenty of other matters to occupy her attention. Three days after the destruction of the enemy army, her men were finished with clearing out the enemy camp. They had found nobody there, save a few stable lads and their charges.
The lads were more than ready to enter into Lady Ayla's service without having to be locked in a room with Reuben first. They were mostly orphans whom the mercenary army had picked up and pressed into service for no pay at all. Their hollow cheeks and bony frames told a sad story that Ayla was more than glad to put an end to. She had given them into Burchard's charge. When the steward had protested, saying that that was work for kitchen staff, she had replied, “No arguments! Judging from the way you’ve tried to fill me up during the siege, you seem to be an expert in stuffing people full of food! So you can start right away with those boys!”
He had grumbled and complained some more, but she thought the way his mustache had twitched might have been a smile.
Ayla hadn't been so sure about what to do with the enemy horses, though.
“Maybe we should send them back to the Margrave,” she had suggested.
Reuben had looked at her as though she had lost her mind. “This man intended to take everything you have and make you his slave in all but name, and you want to send his horses back? Maybe with a complementary note and a few flowers?”
A blush rose to Ayla's cheeks. “I’m not in the habit of robbing other people of their property, like some people I know!” she snapped at him.
A grin spread over his face. “Is that supposed to refer to me, Milady?”
“How did you guess?”
“Oh, you're feisty today. Well, let me tell you, this isn't robbing someone. It's spoils of war. By right of victory, you are entitled to keep anything your foe has left behind. Besides…have a look.”
Striding to one of the horses, Reuben opened the animal's mouth. It jerked back, as if expecting an attack.
“Steady, girl, steady. I won't harm you. Just open your mouth a little bit wider…there! You see?”
He showed Ayla the bit in the horses mouth. She gasped.
“That's a twisted wire bit!”
“Exactly.”
“You poor thing!” Ayla rushed to the horse. Hugging it around the neck, she began to stroke its head. At first, it quivered under her touch. Only slowly did it begin to relax. “I'll bet your mouth is all cut up and bloody! How could those monsters do something like that to you? And you’re such a pretty thing, too. Come, let me take that out.”
“So,” Reuben asked, peering into the air in that innocent manner he had which meant he was being diabolically cunning, while Ayla worked on the horse. “Should I send them back to the Margrave?”
“No! Of course not! Have them brought to my stables at once, and send the stable master to look after them.”
“As you wish, Milady.”
With the last people and horses out of the camp, it still took three days to take an inventory of all the other things left behind. When the work was finally finished, Ayla and Reuben, who had stayed at the castle most of the time—Ayla to look after the wounded, Reuben to harrow the soldiers—rode out of the gates again. They didn’t take the path down towards the devastated village, this time, though, but the one to the enemy camp.
Ayla could feel her heart beat faster as they rode. In her mind, she knew that the enemy was destroyed and all was safe again, but her heart kept insisting that there was still evil about, that evil would not so easily leave a place that had been the home of vile monsters.
“What is it?” Reuben asked beside her. She didn't look at him. It would have been a comfort to see his roguishly handsome face, but she needed to watch where the horse was going on this uneven ground.
“I don't know…” She shook her head. “I feel like the enemies’ ghosts are lingering somehow. Like their evil influence is not completely gone. Silly, I guess, but I can't help it.”
“Not quite so silly, maybe,” Reuben said, his voice hoarse. “Look.”
Looking up from the path, she saw what he meant. They were passing the villagers’ fields right now: acres of corn, swaying gently in the wind. Or, at least, that's what they should have been. Yet they were not. Smoke bit into Ayla's nose.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, staring at the blackened wasteland that had once been the crops of her people. From the corner of her eye, she could see Reuben rounding on the sergeant of their escort, but she didn't care. She only had eyes for the ashes.
“Why didn't you report this?” Reuben snapped.
“Y-you said to report any dangers, Sir. Those were not dangers. Only some ash, that's all.”
“Fool! Didn't you know those were cornfields?”
“Corn…no! No, Sir, I didn't. I'm from Sir Rudolphus's estate. I've never been here before. I'm sorry, Sir.”
Ayla didn't stay to listen to any more of the man’s stuttered apologies. She had to get away from here! Feeling sick, she spurred Eleanor on, away, away from the smoldering ash. She had to get away from that sight or choke on her own tears.
Reuben caught up to her quickly. The pounding of his huge stallion's hooves easily drowned out the noise made by Eleanor, just as it drowned out Ayla's dry sobs.
“Ayla! Ayla, stop!”
When she didn't, a large hand appeared in her vision, grabbing the reins. Whinnying in protest at somebody else other than her mistress handling her, Eleanor came to an unwilling stop. A moment later, Ayla could feel arms around her, hugging her tightly. She hugged him back just as fiercely, not caring who might be watching. She needed him right now.
“You have to stay with the escort, Ayla.” His voice was rough and full of concern. “I've had the surroundings checked, yes, but there still might be lone mercenaries about. If anybody caught sight of you, and if he had a bow…”
“Reuben, don't you see?” Pushing him away a bit, Ayla looked up at him, her eyes watery. “Those villains burned my people's crops! That was their food for the coming winter! What are we going to eat?”
“You won't starve, surely,” he pointed out. “You have enough food for yourself and your servants in the castle.”
Outraged, she thumped his chest.
“Do you think I would eat when my people can't? I'd never eat more than those I have to care for!”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I've noticed. It is a strange habit from which I hope to cure you in the not too distant future.”
“Well, you won't have any luck with that!”
“Why not? Most feudal lords don't care how much their peasants eat, as long as there are still enough of them to do the work when the winter is over.”
“Well, I'm not most feudal lords!” Ayla bit her lip. What Reuben said cut her to the bone. “Would you eat when an army under your command is starving?”
“No,” he answered without having to think about it. “I wouldn't. But an army is different.”
“Why?”
“Because…they are an army. And I am their commander.”
“Well, those people,” she pointed in the direction of the castle, “may not wear any swords or spears, but they are my army. And I am their commander. It is my duty to care for them.” Her head slumped forward to rest against his oh-so-comfortable, strong chest, and, hidden from the world, she let a few secret tears spill over. “And I fear I have failed.”
She expected Reuben to pull her closer—so she was rather taken aback when she felt him letting her go, and she looked up to see was he was doing. He was just sitting there, looking along the path towards the enemy camp. There was a sparkle in his gray eyes.
“Maybe,” he said in a thoughtful voice. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a devilish smile. “Maybe not. Come with me, will you?”