The news spread like a wildfire through the castle: Lady Ayla was going to make a proclamation. Or, at least, the news would have spread like wildfire in the castle if it had been made out of wood and not solid stone—very, very fast. Nobody knew exactly what the proclamation would be about, but nobody was very hopeful. Since the death of Sir Isenbard, nothing seemed certain anymore.
Ayla stood at the top of the steps in front of the keep and surveyed the crowd around her. She noticed the mixed apprehension and hope on their faces. She noticed, too, how both facial expressions vanished abruptly, morphing into awed terror, when the people's gaze landed on the giant blood-red figure behind her.
“My vassals,” Ayla called out. “My people, my friends. As you know, we all lost a dear friend not long ago. With Sir Isenbard’s death, we also lost the commander of our forces. I have called you here together today for a matter that is very important, indeed essential for our survival: the choice of his successor.”
She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I have made my choice. Since your lives hang in the balance here, just as much as, or even more than mine, you deserve to know right away.”
Ayla saw the eyes of the crowd flit from Sir Waldar to Captain Linhart, and then, with an expression of incredulity, on Sir Rudolphus, all gathered around her. Which of her vassals would their lady choose?
“Step forward,” Ayla commanded, “Sir Reuben Rachwild.”
Murmurs of surprise and confusion went up all around her at the unfamiliar name, but cut off abruptly as the giant figure in crimson metal stepped forward, and knelt before Ayla.
“Some of you,” she proclaimed to the crowd, “know this man as Reuben, the merchant. Yet that is not who he truly is. He is Sir Reuben, a knight, tried and tested in battle many, many times, a terror to his enemies. When he was surprised in the forest by the Margrave's troops, before the siege began, he fought an entire battalion, nearly forty of our enemies, and slew them to a man!”
Eyes widened, and gasps could be heard from all sides. Ayla saw Reuben smile behind his visor. He was enjoying this immensely, the arrogant son of a… And she would have to keep boosting him, no matter how much he smirked!
“Grievously wounded, he lay unconscious in the forest, where I found him and brought him back here to Luntberg castle. Over the last few weeks, he concealed his identity from us, not knowing whether we were friend or foe and fearing for his life. But, a short while ago, he revealed himself to me and offered his aid. And since then, he has more than proven his worth.”
Holding up a hand, she began to count.
“He broke into the enemy camp in the middle of the night, killing dozens of enemy guards and stealing weapons and horses. He rescued me from the enemy when they intruded into the castle to abduct me. He has even, as he has told me,” she paused for a look at Reuben, who managed to look somewhat guilty and disgustingly cocky at the same time, “overcome Sir Isenbard himself in a duel.”
Several people in the audience nodded at that and began to whisper to others. Relief swept through Ayla. Thank the Lord there had been eyewitnesses to that contest!
“He is a paragon among knights,” she declared. “A warrior the likes of which has not been seen since the days of Roland or Lancelot. Not only that, but he has commanded entire armies in battle. He is trapped in this castle just as much as we are. He has already proven his loyalty to our cause beyond all doubt. For all those reasons and more besides, I have decided to offer him a place among my vassals and to make him the commander of all my armed forces.”
The tension over the courtyard was so dense, you could almost feel it with your fingertips. Ayla knew this was what the people had been waiting for.
“Sir Reuben,” she called, her voice ringing out clearly over the courtyard, “do you wish to become a vassal of me, Lady Ayla von Luntberg, daughter of Thomas, Count von Luntberg?”
She held her hands out to him. He, following the ancient ceremony, fell to his knees, and took them in his own. It felt so good to be holding his hands. It had been an eternity since Ayla had held his hands, and she felt as though she would never want to let go again.
“I do.” Reuben's voice was deep and strong. If hers had been heard all over the courtyard, his could probably still be heard in the enemy camp.
“Then do you swear to cherish and protect me, your lady, as befits a vassal?” she asked.
“I do.”
“Do you swear to, err…love me more than your own life, as befits a vassal?”
Ayla could hardly look at Reuben as she spoke the age-old words. Still, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the smoldering, devilish look he gave her from below, a look that made her think that maybe for him, just maybe, there was nothing platonic about this part of the oath. He gently pressed her hands. Oh, dear Lord…
“I do,” he said, and Ayla thought she might faint from his voice alone.
Dear Lord, could it be…?
“Do you swear,” she continued a little unsteadily, feeling Burchard's gaze drilling into the back of her head, “to love what I love, and hate what I hate?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear that your sword arm will always be at my disposal?”
Reuben winked. “That, and all the rest of me.”
Ayla turned puce. That was definitely not the conventional answer for the question, but she would have to be lying if she said she didn't like to hear it very much. Breathless, she continued, “Then I accept you as my vassal. From this day forth, I am your liege lord, and I bestow unto you, as is my right as overlord in the absence of other heirs, the lands and titles of Sir Isenbard von Riffgarten, my loyal vassal who has passed away.”
Letting go of his hands, Ayla picked up a symbolic bowl of earth with a little twig from an apple-tree planted in the middle and handed it to Reuben, who took it with great care.
“I am entrusting my land and my people to you, Sir Reuben,” she said, fixing him with her eyes, her heart beating fast. “Earth and life both are under your care, now. I pray that you shall prove yourself worthy of my trust.”
Reuben took the bowl reverently and bowed his head. When he looked up again, there was that devilish look in his gray eyes again that made Ayla’s bones feel weak.
“I will prove myself worthy, Milady. That I swear by the honor I do not have.”
A few people in the crowd threw confused glances at each other. Surely they had heard incorrectly?
Ayla stepped on Reuben's foot.
“Shut up,” she hissed so low she hoped nobody else could hear. “This is supposed to go smoothly! None of your nonsense here, understood?”
“How could I disobey you?” he whispered back. “I'm sworn to obey you, now. I have to do everything you tell me.”
Ayla's throat went dry. The way he said that…
“So?” He grinned the most lascivious of lascivious grins. “What should I do for you?”
“Rise, Sir Reuben,” she commanded.
He stood up. His smoldering gaze didn't leave her face. “Erect enough for you?” he asked in a very low voice when he was completely upright.
Ayla frowned. “Err…yes?”
He shook his head, smirking. “You don't even get my jokes. We'll have to work on that.”
From the way Burchard had appeared beside her with a face as red as bloody beef and a bristling mustache, Ayla gathered that he, at least, had gotten Reuben's joke.
“That concludes the ceremony,” she said hurriedly, stepping in between Reuben and Burchard. “My people, are you pleased with my choice?”
There was a moment of silence - then an explosion of sound hit. Innumerable shouts of “Yay,” “Hooray,” and “Long live Lady Ayla!' went up in the crowd. Almost all of the gathered people were staring at Reuben's massive figure, at the meat cleaver of a sword at his hip, with a sort of desperate hope. Ayla felt almost as though she could read their minds, because she had been thinking similar thought often enough lately: “If he cannot save us, nobody can.”
*~*~**~*~*
“…and Falkenstein's men have not moved for an attack so far. It seems they have reverted to their original intention of starving us,” the scout ended his report. Ayla slumped back in her chair.
“Which will work just fine if no miracle comes along and saves us,” she muttered. “In a few weeks, we’ll be dead.”
The morning's elation at having Reuben as the official commander of her forces had long passed. What could he do? True, from what he had hinted here and there, he had enormous experience in battle. But they were trapped. How could it make a difference?
“What did you say, Milady?” the scout asked.
“Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing.” She waved the question away. “You have done your work very well. I'm proud of you. Go and get some rest.”
The young man beamed and hurried off, not forgetting to bow to her twice.
As he went out, Reuben came in. Hurriedly, the scout bowed five more times and ran for the hills.
“You seem to be having quite an effect on my servants,” Ayla remarked, her mouth twitching.
Reuben grinned that devil’s grin that made her heart melt and took one of her hands in his.
“Can you blame them?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, breathlessly.
They stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, searching. Ayla, for her part, found all she was looking for, and more. There was feeling there, in the thunderous depth of gray. Feeling for her, she was almost sure. Almost.
Oh, why had he not told her again? If he told her again that he loved her, now that she knew he meant it, she would fall into his arms and her world would be perfect, even if she knew they were all going to die tomorrow.
Well, maybe not quite perfect, but considerably better, at least.
Reuben cocked his head. “So…you approve of your new commander?”
She nodded silently, not being able to find the words to answer him.
“Then why do you want to deal with that bastard of a traitor yourself?” he asked. “Why won't you leave the task to me?”
Ayla tensed. It was time.
“He is here?”
“Yes, he has been brought up into the keep, just as you requested.”
“Did anybody see him?”
“I said 'just as you requested'. You requested that nobody would see him. So nobody saw him. I am very thorough, Milady.”
“I believe that.”
“Then why do you want to see him yourself? Why won't you let me deal with him?” Reuben’s eyes narrowed.
“Reuben…” Ayla paused, trying to phrase this as diplomatically as possible. “If I let you ‘deal with him,’ as you put it, what would you do?”
“The first thing on my list,” he answered without hesitation, “would be beating him into a bloody pulp.”
“I see,” Ayla said, nodding to herself. She had expected nothing less. “And that is exactly why I can't let you deal with him.”
Reuben sighed. “You have far too gentle a heart for this world. Has anybody ever told you that?”
“No. But it is very sweet of you.”
“It was supposed to be an insult!” he growled.
Quickly, before she could stop herself, Ayla stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss on Reuben's cheek. He stood there, stunned, staring at her without saying a word.
“I thought it was a nice compliment. Now bring him in already,” Ayla said, blushing. “Your liege lady has other things to do today.”
For a moment, Reuben didn’t move. He just stood there, devouring her with his eyes. Then he unfroze, giving a slight bow.
“Yes, Milady.”
Turning, he marched out of the room.
Ayla settled down in her father's chair again and waited. Her good mood evaporated as soon as Reuben was out of sight, and the sweet song of love in her heart was replaced by a far more frightening melody.
She knew what was to come. Justice.
And she also knew who would have to dispense it. The liege lady.
A few more tense moments of waiting passed. Finally, the doors to the hall were thrown open, and two guards entered. Between them, limp and helpless in his chains, hung the figure of Hans, the traitor.