Time passed quickly as all the castle inhabitants kept themselves busy. One of the most pressing tasks was the final disposal of over five hundred bodies of slain enemy soldiers. Under Reuben's orders, the castle guards had had to carry them out of the castle to a distant, arid piece of land first thing after the battle. But there were so many of them that this task alone had taken days to accomplish. By that time, the air around the corpses was unsavory to say the least, or, as Reuben preferred to express it, “Like a fart out of hell!”
At first, Ayla had wanted to give all of them a Christian burial.
“Have you lost your mind?” Reuben roared at her.
They were assembled in the great hall, which was, by now, free of village refugees. Not all of the castle’s commanders were there. Burchard, Captain Linhart, Reuben, and Sir Waldar were all gathered around Ayla, but Sir Rudophus was still happily employed, stockpiling and counting sacks of grain.
“As much as I hate to admit it, for once I have to agree with Sir Reuben.” Burchard made a face that clearly showed it caused him physical pain to say this. His mustache was bristling like an angry hedgehog.
“You don't even know if they are Christian,” Reuben pointed out.
“That's the point,” insisted Ayla. “If they are, they should not be denied the chance of heavenly forgiveness and entrance into heaven. And if they’re not…it can’t hurt.”
The four men in the room shared a look. Apparently, it was not only Reuben and Burchard who were in agreement over this issue. Ayla stamped her foot, feeling her temper rise.
“What's the matter?” she demanded.
“Well…” Captain Linhart began, “it is just that they are murderers and pillagers. I doubt very much that they will repent posthumously and have a shot at heaven.”
“You don't know that!” Ayla's tone was defensive. “They might very well. There's good in everybody somewhere, you know. No matter what kind of life they've led before, people can repent and gain forgiveness.”
She glanced at Reuben. The others missed it, but he apparently noticed her quick look in his direction and rolled his eyes.
“All right,” he growled. “I concede that they might be Christian. But how about this reason for not doing it: giving them a Christian burial would mean digging five hundred individual graves. By that time, all that will be left of the corpses will be mush and bones. Stinking mush and bones, covered with flies!”
“We should still do it,” Ayla insisted stubbornly.
The debate between the mistress of the castle and her vassals remained at this impasse for several days. In the end, Reuben resolved it by creeping out of the castle one night, emptying a barrel of pitch over the bodies, and setting it ablaze.
Ayla wasn't very pleased with his actions and remonstrated with him in no uncertain terms. When the castle towers had stopped shaking, Reuben remarked how happy he was that she had enlarged her vocabulary of obscenities. Some of the terms she used had undoubtedly originated with him, and he was very proud of his pupil.
Thus, peaceful times went by in Luntberg castle. The leaves, only tinged with a spot of red and yellow here and there, really began to take on the colors of autumn. With the permission of Ayla, who, as the castle mistress, held all the wood-rights of Luntberg, people began going out into the forest to cut wood for the rebuilding of the village.
She was more than happy to grant this small help to her people when she herself could do little else. They had to hurry if they wanted to rebuild their homes before winter came. Ayla was sure they would have started earlier than they did if Reuben hadn't stubbornly insisted they should hold off the rebuilding effort.
“Why?” Ayla had demanded to know. “Just tell me why!”
And all he would do in response was shrug and say, “Just a feeling I have.”
His feelings hadn't been enough to deter the villagers in the end. Work was underway on several houses in the village already, and Ayla was very proud of her people's work. One day, she decided to take a ride through the village and have a look at what had so far been constructed.
What she found puzzled her exceedingly. There were several houses being built, all right. But it looked like that there had been a huge error made in the construction. As she passed Bardo the carpenter, she called him over. She had barely to lean down from Eleanor to talk to the huge man.
“Um…Bardo?”
“Yes, Milady?”
“Not to be disrespectful of your skill, Bardo, but you seem to have made a mistake.” She pointed to the houses, or rather, skeletons of houses. “There are all those huge holes in the houses. They are just wooden frameworks.”
Bardo nodded earnestly, respectfully holding his cap in his hand, as he always did when talking to his mistress. “That's how it's supposed to be, Milady. The gaps will be filled in.”
“Interesting.” Ayla looked at him enquiringly. When he wasn't forthcoming, she prompted, “With what?”
“Um…that's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Milady. If you have the time.”
Frowning lightly, Ayla noticed that he had avoided the question. She also noticed that Bardo had started twisting his cap in his huge hands, as he always did when he was nervous.
“Go ahead,” she said pleasantly, meaning to put him at his ease. “I have time.”
The speed of twisting increased.
“Umm…maybe some place private?” Bardo inquired, his eyes downcast.
Leaning forward a little more, Ayla asked, “Is it a secret mixture, what you put in the gaps? A secret of your craft?”
“No, not exactly…”
“Oh.” Ayla had to admit, she was slightly disappointed. She also couldn't see what he was being so secretive and nervous about, if that wasn't the case.
“Well, then you can come right to the point.”
“Um, Milady…well, you know how you have all those animals up in the castle? Horses and cows and God knows what else, a lot more than we have down here?”
“Yes?”
“Well, you could say it has to do with them. Because you have them, you have…the building material we need. We was hoping you could give us a bit. Usually, our own animals would be enough, but now that we have to rebuild the entire village…we was hoping you could help us out.”
“Indeed?” She smiled at him. “Well, if it is in my possession, you shall have it. What is this magical substance connected to my animals that will build your houses? What do you need to fill those gaps?”
Bardo told her.
The smile froze in place on Ayla's face. She stared at him, trying to think of something to say.
“Err…Bardo?” She cleared her throat. “Are you feeling quite well?”
“Yes, Milady.”
“You haven't been drinking, have you?”
“No, Milady. It's really what we use. It's what we've always used.”
“But the smell, Bardo…”
“You get used to it after a while, Milady.”
“Is that so? Well, I must admit, I've had no experience in that direction.”
“I didn't expect you would, Milady.”
“No.”
“But it really is what we need, Milady.”
“Um…I see. Well, with all the animals in the castle, we certainly have plenty of…that. I shall be glad to let the stable master bring you a cart full at the earliest opportunity.”
“Thank you very much, Milady.”
They parted, both happy to hurry away to what they were doing and promising to themselves that they would never, ever remember this conversation.
*~*~**~*~*
“Ayla, really, this isn't necessary.”
“He needs to know what you have done for me. For all of us.”
“I'm really a very modest person.”
“Liar!” She grinned up at him cheerfully. “You're just afraid.”
The two of them were in the room at the bottom of the stairs that led up the castle's highest tower, where Ayla’s father lived. The growl that came from Reuben's throat in response to Ayla's words sounded like something between a bear and a rabid wolf. It reverberated around the stone chamber.
“I. Am. Not. Afraid,” he said very slowly and carefully.
“Then why don't you just come up and meet him?”
“Because I…”
Reuben scowled.
“Excuse me, Milady?”
At the sound of the voice, they turned around. Unnoticed by either of them, Sir Rudolphus had approached them, slate and pencil in hand. He bowed. “I have completed my assessment of the enemy supplies. Would you like to receive my full report?”
“Actually, I'm rather busy at the mo—” Ayla began, but Reuben cut her off.
“Of course! She would be delighted to hear it. We have really nothing to do, at the moment.”
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” Sir Rudolphus’s delighted smile dissolved the angry expression that had begun to form on Ayla's face.
“Very well,” she sighed, stepping on Reuben's foot and receiving absolutely no reaction. “Give your report.”
The report, as it turned out, was very much to Ayla's liking. Not only were the mercenaries' provisions enough to get her people through the winter, but stacks of warm cloaks had been discovered in a wagon outside the camp, and several cows who had provided the mercenaries with milk and cheese had been found in an enclosure not far away.
“It seems the enemy expected the siege to last into the winter months,” Sir Rudolphus said excitingly, tapping the slate he held with a pen, “and made their preparations accordingly. Now, the supplies they brought for a long winter campaign will see us through the cold time of the year.”
Ayla felt a renewed wave of happiness and warmth wash over her. She couldn't have borne it if she had seen her people through the siege, only to have them starve when the snow fell.
Thinking about all Rudolphus had said, it occurred to her that she might share some of the warmth she felt, literally.
“Will you please tell Burchard to distribute the clothes we found among the poorest of the village families?” she asked. “Particularly those with little children.”
“It will be attended to, Milady.” With a bow, Sir Rudolphus retreated. Ayla sighed and turned, knowing that arms would await to hold her. And so they did. She pressed her face into Reuben's chest and sighed contentedly.
“This makes you really happy, doesn't it?” She heard his deep voice but didn't look up. It felt so comfortable, just being pressed against his chest.
“You have no idea,” she whispered. “If my people were to come to harm because of me…”
“Shh.” His finger gently touched her lips, silencing her. The touch of his finger on her lips was…distracting. “Nothing is going to happen. We have enough food—you said it yourself.”
She rubbed her nose against him in a sort of nod. “Yes, we do. Still, it was a close thing. If my father hadn't been so cautious and collected supplies throughout the years, I’m not sure we would make it, with or without the food from the mercenaries.”
“Well, he has, and we will. So stop worrying.”
“I will. I promise. And…” She stepped back and, having just remembered, smiled up at him. “Speaking of my father, there is one thing that still needs to be done.”
Reuben groaned in manly despair. “I was hoping you had forgotten.”
“I am very persistent, Sir Knight.”
“I am fully aware of the fact, Milady,” he growled. “Do I really have to do this?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Didn't you say you loved me?”
“Yes. And?”
“If you love me, you have to do this.”
He made a face. “I'm not sure I love you that much.”
She poked him in the ribs. “Really?”
He groaned. “No, not really! Argh! Can't I go find a dragon for me to fight instead? It's considered a recognized proof of a knight's love for a lady throughout the lands to fight a dragon. I could chain you to a rock and rescue you. I wouldn't mind if the beast bit one of my fingers off, even. Couldn't I do that instead?”
“No! If you love me, you will do this!”
“You are a cruel woman.”
“Yes, I am.” Smiling, Ayla stood up on her tiptoes and flicked a tiny speck of dust from Reuben's shiny red armor. Taking up her place beside him, she faced the steps leading up to the tower chamber. “Ready to meet my father?”