“Now listen!” Ayla stopped Reuben before the door to the tower chamber and held a finger under his nose as if he were a misbehaving puppy that had to be taught a lesson. “You stay here while I pave the way.”
Oh, by the devil and all his demons! This was really too much to bear. Reuben rolled his eyes.
“Why can't I just come in and get it over with?” he growled.
“Are you insane? My father is old and sick! His heart is not what it used to be.”
“Meaning you think I scare people to death with my mere presence, is that it?”
“Well…” He watched while she inspected him from head to toe. He had insisted on putting on his red armor for this occasion, and finally, Ayla had relented. None of the garments in the castle that were fit for a nobleman of his station were large enough to fit him, and knight's armor was, after all, perfectly acceptable for most social occasions. Depending on the reaction of Ayla’s father, Reuben suspected that, in this case, it might even be life-saving. Ayla continued her inspection of the six-foot seven beast of a warrior in front of her for a few moments, her eyes finally landing on the huge sword at his waist.
“To be absolutely frank, Reuben…yes, you do.”
“Really?” A delighted grin spread over his face. “Thank you very much for the compliment, Milady.”
Rolling her eyes, Ayla grabbed the door knob.
“You stay here, and wait,” she commanded again.
“Yes, Milady. As you wish, Milady.”
The door closed behind her, and Reuben could hear the muffled sound of voices from inside the room. He couldn't understand a word of what they said, though. A frown appeared on his face. He couldn't have that, now, could he?
Quickly, he took two steps towards the door and pressed his ear against the oak. Oh yes, it was much better like this.
“…something I haven't told you, father,” he heard Ayla's voice.
“I thought as much,” came the reply in a brittle, old voice he had never heard before. “The servants have been whispering about a knight's duel on the walls during the final battle—and the only knights we have left are Sir Waldar and Sir Rudolphus. They didn't use their names. They spoke of someone else. Somebody they called ‘Sir Reuben.’ And I have heard the shouts of soldiers training from the outer yard. What’s happening, my daughter? Who is this Sir Reuben?”
“Um…the new commander of our armed forces.”
There was a pause. Then, the old man said in what Reuben thought was a remarkably calm and friendly voice, “Kindly explain to me how a stranger whom I have never met or heard of in my life came to be the commander of all my vassals while I wasn't looking.”
Ayla cleared her throat. “Well, I'd have to start from the beginning, I suppose…”
“That would be a good idea, yes.”
“It was before the siege started, you know.”
“I see. So you made this man commander of our vassals several months ago and haven't seen fit to mention the fact?” Still, the old man’s voice was amazingly calm and friendly. Or at least it sounded calm and friendly. Reuben had been around long enough to know the difference.
“No, no,” Ayla was quick to assure him. “I didn't mean putting him in command. I mean, this whole thing with him started back then.”
“Indeed? What ‘thing’ are we talking about, precisely?” Still friendly, yes…but, under the soft surface, there was steel.
“It all started in the forest,” Ayla explained. “You see…he was shot.”
“Good.”
“Father!”
Reuben smirked at Ayla's indignant tone. He was beginning to like this old man, even through three inches of solid oak.
“You're right, Ayla. I am sorry,” her father apologized.
“I should hope so.”
“I’ll wait and hear the rest of the story before I decide whether it was good or not that he was shot.”
Since he heard nothing in reply, Reuben thought that Ayla chose not to honor this with an answer. He pitied the count, though. He knew that, at this very moment, he would be exposed to one of Ayla's most forceful, reproachful looks from those big blue eyes of hers.
“So what happened after he was shot?” The count asked when the silence had lasted long enough.
“I was out there, to warn the farmers of the approaching danger, when I found him, wounded from a ferocious fight.”
“You went out there? While the Margrave's men were already in the area? I explicitly forbade you to do any such thing! Ayla, that was…”
“I had a company of men with me,” she interrupted him. Reuben had to grin again. She apparently felt no need to mention that this group of men had been compelled to chase after her after she had ridden off on her own.
“Hm. I see. It was still dangerous.”
“Yes, father, but wars generally are.”
The voice of the count was even drier and more brittle than usual as he said, “I have noticed.”
“Well, on our way back, we found this man, bleeding and half-dead, with three arrows in his back, in a circle of dead enemy soldiers.”
Reuben had to admit, her omissions were increasingly amusing. This time, she had forgotten to tell her father how he, Reuben, had robbed her of all her belongings and left her in the forest, and also the fact that she had sworn to have him killed for it. Probably not the best things to mention when you were about to introduce a man to your father.
“Dead enemy soldiers? Who had killed them? He?”
“We didn't think so, back then, father. It seemed unlikely. He was only one man—unarmed and unarmored—and there were about forty of them.”
“Ha, unlikely indeed. So what happened to them if he didn't kill them?”
“Father…I said we didn't think he had killed them at the time. I didn't say that he had not actually done it.”
There was a pause.
Then Reuben heard the count's voice again, more serious now.
“Continue.”
“We brought the man back to the castle. I had to look after his wounds, or he would have died.”
In quick, concise words Ayla proceeded to explain how Reuben had told her he was a traveling merchant, and how she had looked after Reuben during his weeks of wound-induced fever. From her previous words, it was already pretty much evident that this was not yet the whole story, and the count remained silent, listening attentively. Almost as attentively as Reuben.
When Ayla told her father how Reuben had finally revealed his true identity to her—completely voluntarily and in a very moving scene which contained a lot of mushy dialogue that Reuben found extremely amusing—the silence of Ayla's father ended abruptly.
“What?” he yelled. “He lied? Concealed his identity from you, who only wished to help him? That is not the act of a knight! That is the act of a dastardly rogue!”
Reuben had to admit, Count Thomas was quite perceptive. He felt the urge to applaud.
“No, it wasn't!” Ayla protested. “He didn't know who we were or what he would be getting mixed up in.”
“It was the act of a devious devil and a coward, Ayla, and you know that. I won't hesitate to say it to his face.”
There was a moment of silence. Then, Ayla demanded, “So it was a coward who defeated forty of the Margrave's men on his own, Father, was it?”
Again, a moment of silence. When the count's voice replied, it sounded awkward. “Well…if you put it like that…”
“Wait to judge him until you hear the rest of the story,” Ayla said, and Reuben felt a thrill at the love in her voice. He only hoped the Count couldn't detect it as easily. “You will see he is a very different man from what you think he is.”
“Very well.” Apparently, her father had detected nothing unusual in his daughter’s tone. “Go on.”
And she did. She proceeded to recount the whole history of the siege to him, featuring a brave young knight in the main role who had risked his life to rescue her beloved horse, and then saved her from the evil clutches of her enemies more than once. Reuben was quite impressed. Up to that point, he'd had no idea how brave and noble he actually was.
When she came to the point where the mercenaries had sneaked into the castle and taken her hostage, there came a gagging sound from the other side of the door, and Ayla's story abruptly broke off.
“Father?” she cried. “Father, are you all right?” Reuben heard the soft patter of her feet on the stone floor, then a squeak, as she sank onto his bedstead beside him.
“I'm…fine,” said the voice of the count, slightly hoarse now. “You were taken hostage by the enemy?”
“Well…yes. But just a little bit.”
“I see. And why exactly did you not mention this to me at the time?”
“I didn't want to worry you.”
“That was so considerate of you, my dear daughter. Please, in the future, continue to place my level of anxiety over your well-being.”
“I never expected to hear sarcasm from you, Father.”
“Well, I never expected to hear that my daughter participates in pitched battles and nocturnal raids! I suppose we all have surprises in us somewhere.”
“Point taken.”
“So, dear daughter, please continue. Since you are still in one piece, I'm guessing your guards managed to free you from the clutches of your captors?”
“No. Reuben did.”
“Oh?” There was real surprise in the count's voice. “How did he manage that?”
“He climbed out of the window, down the wall, and jumped on the man who was holding me.”
“Hmm…” Now, the Count's voice sounded thoughtful. Reuben couldn't keep a self-satisfied grin from spreading over his face—nor did he want to. Grudgingly, Ayla's father admitted, “Sounds like a resourceful fellow, this Reuben.”
“He is.”
“You seem to be quite fond of him,” the old man's voice stated cautiously.
Reuben could almost feel the warmth of Ayla's blush through the door.
“He…he is a valiant knight. We owe our lives to him.”
“Is that so? Well, we'll see. Go on.”
By the time Ayla’s story had reached the Battle of the Killing Fields and Reuben's plan that exterminated the enemy army, “resourceful” wasn't the word which Count Thomas used to describe him anymore. In fact, the count seemed to be lost for words altogether.
“Father?” Ayla asked cautiously after a few minutes of stunned silence. “Are you all right?”
There were a few more moments of quiet, then the count asked, “The entire army is really destroyed? Five hundred men?”
“Six hundred or more, if you count the men we killed in previous skirmishes.”
“Ah. I see.”
Again, the count lapsed into silence.
“Ayla?”
“Yes, Father?” Reuben could hear the anxiety in her voice. She had obviously not expected him to react like this. His strange calm and silence unsettled her. Probably she thought he was displeased for some reason, and clueless as to what would happen next.
To be honest, Reuben didn't have an idea, either.
“Why…”
“Why what, Father?”
“Why don't you bring this fellow Reuben in? I would like to meet him.”
*~*~**~*~*
Flushed with happiness, Ayla ran to the door and flung it open. Reuben was leaning against the wall at the opposite end of the room, his arms crossed, whistling to himself innocently. Ayla was a bit too excited to notice that one of his ears was slightly reddened, as if it had been pressed against a hard surface.
“Reuben!” She beamed at him, to show him everything was all right. He had to have been terribly nervous, waiting out here alone, with no clue what was going on. “Come on in. My father wants to meet you!”
“Does he?” A simile of delighted surprise appeared on his face. “Really?”
“Yes!” Her smile widened at his obvious relief. “Come!”
“I will, and be honored to do so.”
Touching her hand in passing, he went into the room. Ayla followed him, pride and anxiety twisting inside her. On the one hand, she was fiercely proud of Reuben: proud of what he had achieved, of how handsome he was, and that he had chosen to give his love to her alone. On the other, her father's heart worried her. From all the years of lying down because his bones were unable to support him anymore, it had grown weak and frail. A shock might very well kill him, and he had already had his share of shocks today.
Now he would get another. He would see Reuben entering the room.
Ayla remembered well her own reaction when she had first saw him: six foot seven of pure muscle, topped by a ruggedly handsome face with dark gray eyes so intense they could burn a hole into your soul. If she’d had a bad heart, she would have died the first time he looked deeply into her eyes.
Her father seemed to share her feelings. When he first caught sight of the huge figure in red steel that seemed to fill out half the tower chamber, his eyes widened in shock. Then they traveled to the sword at his belt which matched its master’s proportions. A bit of color drained from his wrinkled old face of the count, but apart from that, he bore it well.
His face was the image of noble courtliness when he finally gave a slow bow of his head to Reuben.
“Welcome, Sir Knight. Welcome. I realize you have already been here for quite some time, but since I have not been able to say it before, I shall say it now. Welcome to my castle. I am honored to have you as a guest in my halls, Sir Reuben von…?”
He let the sentence trail off, leaving a question at the end.
Ayla frowned. In all the time she had spent worrying about Reuben's dark past, she had never once thought to contemplate which part of the Empire he might be from and what his noble titles were. This was something she would have to rectify.
Reuben gave a rueful smile to the count and bowed, so deeply, elegantly, and with perfect courtly precision that Ayla's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He actually had manners stowed away somewhere in a dark recesses of his soul?
“I am overjoyed to make your acquaintance, Count Thomas. I regret to say that I have no homeland or hereditary title, having been deprived of both by the cruel fortune of war.” His face took on such a convincing expression of sadness that Ayla almost believed it to be genuine. Almost. “I am sure, with your recent experiences, you can understand that I do not wish to think too much of that time in my life.”
“Of course, of course,” the count agreed, sympathy entering his gentle eyes. A smile lifted the corners of his lips. Ayla watched in amazement as Reuben won approval in her father's eyes with a few well-chosen words that painted him as a fellow sufferer. They were probably all lies, of course, but impressively delivered.
Her father reached out and seized Reuben's hand. “I did not want to speak to you to question you, Sir Reuben, but to thank you.”
For a moment, he was silent, holding Reuben's eyes and hand. Then the old man continued gravely, “I owe you my life, my daughter's life, everyone over whom I reign, and everything I possess. Such a debt can never be repaid. If there is anything that is in my power to give you, name it, and you shall have it.”
Ayla saw Reuben pursing his lips thoughtfully. She was surprised, to say the least. Was there something he wanted that the count could give him? She hadn't thought there was anything particular he desired. But then, he was Reuben. He might just say something like, “Oh, if you would give me all your gold and silver, that would be appreciated. And if you don’t, I’ll cut your throat, you nasty old fart!”
However, that was not what he seemed to have in mind. His eyes traveled until they landed on her, where they stayed for a very long moment. Then he lowered his gaze from her face, and she could feel it on her hand.
Her hand? What would he want with her hand?
Ayla's breath caught as she realized the truth.
“Well,” Reuben said thoughtfully, “there might be something, actually.”
“And that would be?” the old man asked eagerly. He didn't seem to have noticed the direction of Reuben's gaze. “Name it. It shall be yours. What is it?”
Ayla had a good idea of what “it” might be. She felt hot and cold at the same time, excited and afraid, ecstatic and vulnerable. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. But of all those, the foremost was Ohgodohgodohgod! If he asks him, he's going to have a heart attack! I know it! He's going to have a heart attack.
Frantically, she gestured to Reuben to stop. He cocked his head, innocently raising an eyebrow, as if asking “What do you mean? I'm just asking for my well-earned reward for services rendered. You’re lucky I’m not asking for all his gold and silver, and the castle into the bargain.”
The scowl she gave him in reply could have scared off a dragon. Reuben shrugged his shoulders and, with a last smirk at her, turned back to her father.
“Well…maybe another time,” he said. “When you're well rested and your nerves are strong.”
The count blinked in surprise. Then he nodded and raised a hand. “All right. But you have my word that I shall reward you. Remember. Anything that is mine to give is yours to have.”
Reuben nodded. “I shall remember, Count. You have my word. It will definitely come in useful in the future.” He managed to give another graceful bow before Ayla forcefully dragged him out of the room.
“Ayla! What are you doing?” her father called after her, startled. “I should have liked to hear more of the worthy Sir Reuben's brave deeds.”
“There will be plenty of time for that later!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Right now, I need to have a word with the worthy Sir Reuben. And Father?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful what you promise him in future. He might just take you at your word!”