On their first ride out of Luntberg, Ayla discovered that the valley wasn't nearly as idyllic as it had seemed from the window of her castle chamber. Where once the village had stood, only piles of ash and blackened pieces of half-burned timber remained.
Ayla had to struggle hard to keep the tears back at the sight. Many times, she had ridden or walked through the village as a child. She knew everything as well as her own castle. There, the carpenter's shop was supposed to be; there, the smithy. There were only ruins. Even the little village church had not escaped the godless mercenaries: it was burned to the ground.
“We will rebuild,” she said, her voice quivering only slightly. “We will rebuild everything, just as it was.”
“Yes. We will.” Reuben, sitting beside her on the black stallion with its infernal name he still refused to change, took her hand and squeezed it gently. The burnt village didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. On one level, that was reassuring. On another, it was slightly frightening.
Lots of things about him were slightly frightening. Ayla bit her lip. She would have to start asking someday.
“You have seen fighting and destruction like this before, haven't you?”
To her surprise, he laughed lightly. “Would I have taken command of your liegemen if I hadn't, Milady?”
“No, I suppose not.” Once again, she hesitated. “What did you see? One feud? Two? Fights against bandits?”
She dared not look at him. It was the first time she had really asked questions about his past. They were just the first trickle of a flood of questions she had for him. She wanted to know everything about him! Where did he come from? What about his family? How did he lose them? How did he become like he was?
But she was still too afraid to ask that.
“Oh yes, I saw feuds and raiders.” Reuben's voice was devoid of any amusement now. His eyes were burning with gray fire. “Fought them, too, more than once or twice. More than a dozen or a hundred times, in fact. And wars, crusades, countless battles, sieges of cities and castles ten times the size of yours, long marches under the desert sun, and cold dungeons miles under the ground. I have seen more men die than I have seen alive. I have seen a lot of things, Ayla, many of which I'd rather not remember.”
A shiver ran down Ayla's back. She had gotten her answer, and it only stirred up more questions in her.
“You were in a crusade?” She whispered, awed. “Did you win back the holy city?”
“Ha!” He wagged a finger at her, suddenly grinning again. “I said that I saw a crusade, not that I fought in it on the side of the Christians.”
Her mouth popped open.
“You didn't…you couldn't have…”
“The Saracens are very nice people,” he said with a perfectly faked innocent look on his face. “Besides, they pay really well.”
He was jesting! He had to be! Of that, Ayla was absolutely sure. Well, almost. Not even Reuben would betray his faith and fight on the side of the enemy, would he?
The same Reuben that rode through the forest, cheerfully robbing helpless maidens?
The same Reuben that swore by the devil instead of God?
The same Reuben that put his hand into flame without flinching?
Yes, he would.
Ayla decided she had had enough truth for one day. It was time to change the subject. “I think,” she said pointedly, “we should start rebuilding efforts there.” And she pointed to the church. Glaring meaningfully at Reuben, she added, “I think we're going to need it, don't you?”
He didn't reply. He had bent over the saddle to pick something from the ground. When he resurfaced, he held a little daisy in his hand that had grown on one of the heaps of ash.
“There, you see?” he said, holding out the flower to her. “Rebuilding efforts have already begun.”
She took the tiny thing from him, stroking the petals with her fingertips. Suddenly, her throat was too tight for words. How could this be the same man who ripped his enemies to bloody shreds and traveled the land looting and pillaging?
Reuben leaned towards her. Taking her hand in his, he brought it up and gently pressed his lips on it. From under long, dark lashes, he sought and caught her gaze.
“My love for you blooms and grows a thousand times more quickly than the most beautiful flower, Milady.”
Ayla, her heart hammering with fearful joy, was just trying to come up with something to say to that when, from behind her, she heard snickering. When she and Reuben turned, all the guards in their escort stood as straight as the Luntberg castle towers, desperately trying to keep their faces empty.
“Who was that,” Reuben asked in a deceptively soft tone. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, the weapon half-drawn.
“What?” Ayla asked and lifted an eyebrow. “I didn't hear anything.”
The men tried not to let their relief show. Reuben slammed his sword back into its sheath.
“Well, I did,” he proclaimed. “And it had better not happen again.”
“Oh, stop acting so grumpy.” Turning forward again, Ayla stroked her lovely little flower. “You'll scare all the birds off.”
“First I have to become her vassal, now she won't even let me discipline my own men!” Reuben complained to the world. “This is what comes of trying to remember those cursed rule of chivalry!” He turned back to Ayla, that devilish grin she loved so much on his face. “I should just tie you to a tree and get on with it!”
Ayla gulped.
Why does he want to tie me to a tree? And “get on with”? What exactly does he want to get on with?
“I like it when you're trying to be chivalrous. It's very sweet.”
Reuben scowled. “What if I don't what to be sweet?”
“Too bad.” She grinned up at him. “Besides, that's not the only reason I like it. It's nice to see you struggle with something for a change.”
“Is that so?” His gray eyes sparkled. “Well, be careful what you say. I just might take you to the archery range one day, to see you struggle with something.”
Ayla looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Me? Handling a bow? Are you out of your mind?”
“Very well then,” he whispered, leaning closer. His hand traveled up her arm, caressing her skin through the light fabric of her dress. “If I want to watch you struggle, we can skip the archery range and go straight to your bedchamber.”
Ayla leaned back and smacked his hand away.
“I notice,” she said tartly, “that you've stopped being chivalrous.”
“So?” Reuben asked, not in the least embarrassed. “Are we going?”
Rather than answer, Ayla turned her back on him to conceal her blush. She faced her soldiers. They had now reached the middle of the former village. It was time to do what they had come to do.
“You eight over there,” she commanded, pointing to one of the two columns that had followed them. “Split up into pairs and search the village in each direction. See if there are any mercenaries still hiding here and if there's anything in the way of building material that can be reused.”
They bowed. With a resounding “Yes, Milady!” they hurried off, considerably more quickly than they had the last time she had given them an order.
“You have saved your people from certain doom,” Reuben commented. “And they love and respect you all the more for it.”
“Maybe.” A small smile tugged at Ayla’s lips. “Or it may be that they're afraid you'd tan their hides if they don't do what they're told right away.”
“Well, yes, that might be part of it.”
“Modesty, Sir Reuben? Are you getting chivalrous again?”
“Only for you, Milady.”
“I am honored, Sir Knight.”
It wasn't long before the soldiers returned. Their report was as had to be expected.
“There's really nothing left, Milady,” one of the men said after they had compared their findings. “They burned this place good and proper. Even the pigs’ stalls are gone. We'll have to rebuild from the ground up.”
Ayla sighed. “Well, we knew that's how it would be, didn't we? We'll just have to start rebuilding soon and put a lot of effort in it.”
When Reuben said nothing, she looked sideways at him. He normally wasn't very shy about airing his opinions, to put it mildly. She found him frowning and looking into the distance with an unusually thoughtful expression in his gray eyes.
“What's the matter?” she asked. “Is there something wrong?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don't think so. But if you want my opinion…hold off on the rebuilding for a few days yet. I want to re-check the area. The mercenary army is gone, but we should still be careful.”
Ayla found the request a bit odd. After all, he had already double-checked the countryside around Luntberg, but she conceded.
“All right. We need to see what materials we can salvage from the soldier's camp first, anyway, and ask the village people about where exactly their houses stood, and who is most anxious to start rebuilding. I guess the smith at least should remain in Luntberg Castle for a while. We'll need him for repairing all the damaged weapons.”
“Yes,” Reuben confirmed, still looking into the distance. “We definitely need him to repair the weapons.”
Only later did Ayla realize what a strange tone he had said this in.