The Robber Knight's Secret

46. Justice

The great hall was as quiet as a grave, but considerably fuller. Except in times of plague, a grave generally contained only one or two people. The great hall was full to the brim with people, and somehow more were still coming in. As the fire outside was slowly brought under control, one firefighter after the other was relieved of his or her duty and stumbled into the room.

They were exhausted, all of them, and covered in soot. But not one of them thought of washing up or sleeping. Without needing encouragement, they formed neat rows along the walls, watching intently. Some had their eyes on the big oak doors, some on the high seat of the castle lord at the back of the room.

On the high seat, Ayla sat, watching the faces around her. They were hard to read. Everyone looked grim, but beyond that? Would they be grateful if all the crossbows were destroyed, believing their souls to be saved from a fate worse than death? She couldn't tell. Not yet, at least.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Burchard shift beside her. They were all there, clustered around the lord's chair: Burchard, Waldar, Rudolphus, Gregor, even Linhart. The latter had apologized so many times by now that Ayla'd had to threaten him with the stocks before he stopped.

From outside the hall, noises approached. Ayla's eyes snapped to the door, as did everyone else's. Another villager come from the firefight? No. These steps were heavier, more decisive. Ayla would have recognized them anywhere.

A moment later, the doors flew open, crashing against the bare stone walls. Reuben marched into the great hall, dragging the limp form of Gernot behind him like a hunter would the carcass of a deer. And the expression on Reuben's face certainly looked hungry for blood.

Ayla flicked a brief glance at the villagers around her.

If she'd had any doubt about their feelings before, those were gone now. The men and women of Luntberg stared at Gernot with a hatred so intense you could almost taste it. Fists twitched, jaws worked, and Ayla got the impression that it was only the fact that Gernot was in the grasp of the red knight that kept them from exacting vengeance on him on the spot.

"Here!" Stopping right in front of her seat, Reuben hauled Gernot up to his feet. "I bring you the traitor, Milady!"

Hardly was the man upright, when Reuben pushed him forward and kicked him in the back of the legs, making him fall into an unwilling prostration. He uttered a garbled cry of pain as his knees slammed into the floor, but all things considered, Ayla chose not bother herself with the bruising of this man's kneecaps. Her duties as a healer went only so far.

Ayla nodded at Reuben. "Thank you, Sir Knight."

"It was my pleasure."

Yes, it undoubtedly had been. Ayla shared a quick, intimate look with her knight. Just one glance to see how his eyes burned with secret fire, and his mouth curved in a deadly smile. That was all she allowed herself to gather strength for the coming ordeal. Then she looked towards the kneeling figure on the floor.

"Gernot, son of Arnt," she began, raising her voice so it filled the entire hall. "You have been brought before me today on the charge of treason against your rightful liege lord, Count Thomas von Luntberg. What do you have to say in your defense?"

The peasant met her eyes, just as defiant as before.

"That I'm no traitor," he spat. "That I am the only one of true faith and loyalty in this accursed rat-hole of a castle. Praised be Jesus Christ!"

"Now and forever," Ayla replied. Her hand shot up, signaling before she even knew what she was doing. When it came down, the entire hall of people, soot-stained, stinking of smoke and exhausted as they were, thundered: "Amen!"