Page 37 of The Robber Knight's Love
There was a knock at the door. A nervousknock, a servant's knock. Reuben remembered what they sounded likeall too well from the old days.
“Come in,” he called. Anything to bring a bitof diversion.
The silly, screeching maid from earlierentered the room, holding a tray in her trembling hands, on whichstood a steaming wooden bowl. She looked like a frightened bunnycondemned to bring a wolf his food, hoping he wouldn't eat herinstead of what she was carrying.
“Your s-supper, Sir,” she stammered.
“Ah!” Reuben rubbed his hands together. Hewas almost as hungry as he was bored, and was looking forward to ahearty meal. “What do you have for me? Tell, tell.”
“F-fennel soup, Sir.”
Reuben's face went blank. “What?”
Trying to stay as far away from him aspossible, the maid knelt and placed the tray in front of him. Thebowl on it contained a greenish fluid which Reuben at a glancewould have identified as stagnant pondwater.
“We have prepared a special diet for you,according to the teachings of the great abbess and healer Hildegardvon Bingen,” she explained, timidly. “She recommends that any whosuffer from illness or wounds take only liquid food, and she placesgreat emphasis on the healing effects of fennel.”
“She does, does she?” Reuben growled. “And doall of your sick receive this affectionate treatment?”
“No, Sir,” Dilli said hurriedly. “We wouldnever dare! Lady Ayla gave me instructions to prepare thisspecially for you. I made the soup with e-extra f-fennel!”
“How... nice of you.” Reuben's gray eyesglowed with the promise of steel and death. “Remind me to thankyour mistress for this later, will you?”
Dilli nodded eagerly, obviously relievedbeyond measure that he was pleased with the special care they tookof him. “Yes, Sir.”
The maid started to rise, but Reuben grabbedher arm. “Tell me—what is the Lady Ayla having for dinner?”
The girl hesitated for a moment, seeming tostruggle with herself and as well as with the possibility offainting from the fact that a mad monster, who was probably one ofthe undead, was clutching her arm in an iron grip.
“Ch-chicken p-pie with Lord's Sauce and honeywine, I heard, Sir.”
Reuben's eyes almost sprang out of his headfrom anger, but he managed to smile at the silly girl.“Indeed?”
“As the first course of five. She'spractically feasting.”
“Ah. Thank you for telling me. Now I reallylook forward to my next meeting with your mistress.”
That arrogant little minx! Reuben gnashed histeeth in anger. He would... well, he didn't know yet what he woulddo to exact his revenge on Ayla, but it would be somethinginventive.
He let go of the maid's arm and picked up thewooden spoon in the bowl as if he were about to start eating theghastly substance.
Smiling happily, though apprehensively, shecurtsied and left the room. Reuben had to mightily resist the urgeto just throw the bowl at the closed door. No, that would not bewise. His host was obviously fond of her servant, and it wouldn'tdo to alienate his host. Carefully, he sniffed the bowl again.Perhaps he could just throw it out of the window? No, it would befound. He had to act inconspicuously. He couldn't afford to drawAyla's attention and maybe make her realize who he really was.
So becharming, he told himself.You knowhow to. You once had all the ladies of the Imperial Court at yourfeet.
Yes, he had. He had also been a bloody foolback then. But that didn't mean he couldn't use his old skills tohis advantage now. He smiled. The first rule of chivalry: whatevera lady gives you, accept it with grace and thanks, even if itstinks.
He stood up and grabbed the bowl. A movementthat would have brought any other man with this kind of wounds tohis knees howling in pain—but not him of course. With the bowl inhand, he went to the back of the room to what looked like the doorsof a wardrobe, behind which, he hoped, lay the answer to hisdilemma. He opened the doors and grinned in satisfaction.
He had found what he was looking for: agarderobe, a small wardrobe for precious clothes. It was attachedto the outer wall of the keep, directly over the dungheap, and wasopen at the bottom. The stench wafting up was supposed to keepmoths away. Reuben had always thought it quite an ingenious idea.If he were a moth, he'd certainly keep his distance.
He turned the bowl upside down and emptiedits contents onto the dungheap. The second rule of chivalry: if thething your lady gives you stinks, get rid of it in an inconspicuousmanner.
Reuben supposed he would have to sneak downto the kitchen tonight and steal some real food. For now, though,that would have to wait. Still hungry and still bored, he went tothe window, where at least the view might be mildly moreinteresting than when he lay on his back on the bed, staring at thestone ceiling.
In the red light of the setting sun, hisexperienced eye scanned the castle below, finding its strengths andweaknesses. There were not many of the latter. Whoever had builtthis place, he’d had more brains than the girl, Ayla. This was amighty stronghold, standing in the midst of, he noticed as his eyeskimmed over the landscape in the distance, a truly beautifulvalley with lush green meadows and mighty forests.
An odd kind of longing tugged at Reuben'sheart at the sight. What was it? Nostalgia? It had been a very longtime since he had stood in a place like this. Slowly, his eyes slidshut and his fingers gripped the stone windowsill in a death grip.He could see it, feel it. See the countless other views from castlewindows he had seen, feel the wind touching his face, the armor onhis body, the blood-red cape with his escutcheon tugging at hisneck. Most of all, he could feel the sword in his hand—the weaponof a knight. Of a man who sought honor and glory.
