Page 32 of The Robber Knight
No, what angered her was that through theentire procedure of removing the arrows, a process which shouldhave left a pampered merchant like him, or indeed any man,screaming in agony, he hadn't uttered so much as a single sound ofpain. He had even made polite conversation with her, for heaven'ssake—the only time during their short acquaintance when he hadactually deigned to be polite, so far.
She had wanted to hurt him so badly—insteadshe ended up healing him. How she had wanted to hurt him!Especially, oh, especially when she had been forced to put her armsaround him and—the thought almost made her blush even now—she hadfallen on him.
His insolent grin had been enough for her towant to sink into the floor right there and then. She wondered atthe fact that it hadn't burned an everlasting mark of shame on herforehead.
Nonsense, sheforced herself to think.I was only bandaginghim. And the falling on him, that was an accident.
Ah, a smallvoice in the back of her head said.But theproblem isn't that it happened, is it? It's that you enjoyedit.
“Shut up!” she growled.
“Err... Milady? I didn't say anything.”
Ayla looked up to see Dilli and three guardswaiting at the end of the corridor. They stared at her with worriedexpressions.
“What is it, Milady?” Dilli asked.
Ayla just shook her head. “Nothing, Dilli.Will you look after ourguestforthe time being? I have to get down to the bridge to check how thebarricade is coming along.”
The maid blanched slightly, but curtsied.“Certainly, Milady. If I may ask, Milady, what should I do if ourguest asks for a meal? Should I prepare something special?”
Aylascowled, not noticing the way her maid's voice shook when shementioned their guest. “No! Just give him the same as the rest ofus...” She stopped and considered for a moment. Thoughtfully, shetugged on her lower lip. “Actually, no, Dilli. You had a good ideathere. Prepare him a meal according to the special diet for thesick and wounded by Hildegard von Bingen.[32]You know therecipe?”
“Yes, Milady. You taught it to me lastwinter, when the smith got taken ill.” The maid hesitated. “Forgiveme for asking, Milady, but what if our guest does not like his,err... special diet?”
Ayla smiled and shrugged. “He will just haveto stomach it, now, won't he?”
“And... I am to bring him his meal myself?Alone? Without any guards accompanying me?”
Ayla was looking another way and didn't seethe pleading look in her maid's eyes.
“Yes, yes. Sorry Dilli, but I can't chatanymore. I have to go now. You three!” She waved at the threeguards. Still, there was a slightly vindictive smile on her face.She knew the special diet of Hildegard von Bingen. Reuben'sreaction would be... interesting. “Follow me! We're heading down tothe bridge.”
*~*~**~*~*
“You seem in a good mood this afternoon,considering we're about to be attacked by an evil tyrant,” Burchardremarked suspiciously as he beheld her striding towards thebridge.
“Yes, something came along that made me feela lot better,” Ayla replied with a smile.
“Is that so? Well, I hope it lasts afteryou've seen the barricade.”
The barricade was indeed a sorry sight. Itlooked like an array of overgrown toothpicks. Men were wanderingaround asking each other questions like how they were supposed tomake the posts stand upright and whether the pointy end shouldpoint upwards or downwards.
Ayla cursed herself for not noticing theconfusion when she had passed through earlier. She had been toooccupied with that scoundrel Reuben to even look at thefortifications, which had prevented her from noticing how verylittle fortified they actually appeared.
“Hey, you!” she called to the man who seemedto think he was in charge—he was the one who was shouting theloudest.
The big fellow immediately stopped shoutingand came over to her, bowing. He was about two heads taller thanAyla and three times as hairy. Standing across from one another,they looked like a brutish bear and a little white lily. Yet it wasthe man that cowered, anxiously twisting his cap in his hands.
“Milady.”
“What's your name?”
“Bardo, Milady.”
“Then please tell me, Bardo: what is this,”she pointed at the pseudo-barricade, “supposed to be?”
The big man scratched the back of his headuncomfortably. “Well... I don't rightly know myself, Milady. It's abit of a mess, to be honest.”
