The Robber Knight's Secret

05. Squirming Squire

"Um... is something the matter out there, Milady?"

Ayla was distinctly aware of the fact that her own cheeks, too, were glowing. She quickly waved a hand.

"Nothing that need concern you, Theoderich. Now, what was it that you wanted to see me about?"

"Now, not like that! Just because I called you mangy dogs doesn't mean you have to act like you have paws for hands, you idle-headed wart!"

Carefully, Theoderich took a step away from the open window.

"Well... it is about my future, Milady. As you know, I was Sir Isenbard's squire, and he... he is..."

The young man's voice trailed off into nothingness.

"Dead," Ayla said, her voice still gentle, betraying nothing of the pain in her heart.

"Yes." Theoderich swallowed. "And a squire has only one task: to serve his knight master. Now that he is gone..."

"You wish to return to your parents, until they can find another knight master for you," Ayla finished the sentence.

But the second she saw the expression that came over the young man's face—the same determination, only increased a thousand fold, she knew she had finished it wrong.

"No." He shook his head. "I want to stay here as squire."

"But..." Ayla frowned. "Sir Isenbard is dead."

"I know that, Milady. I still wish to stay."

"I don't understand. Theoderich, life in Luntberg is about to become very dangerous. We're just experiencing a brief respite. Soon, war will resume, fiercer and bloodier than ever before. Why would you stay?"

The young man fixed her with his earnest, blue-eyed gaze. "Milady, I've seen what you've been doing over the last few months. You haven't just fought to protect your own lands. You have fought to protect the weak and helpless, women and children. You have stood up to evil and lead your people as if the Virgin Mary herself were showing you your way to greatness. Yours is a cause for which every good, Christian knight should aspire to fight. That is what I wish to become one day—and that is why I cannot leave."

Ayla saw the absolute earnestness in the young man's eyes.

I can't stop him, the thought shot through her head. I can't stop him from throwing his life away. Except... maybe...

"But as a squire, you need a knight master," she pointed out, hurriedly, hoping that this formality would save her. Save him.

But no.

"Yes, Milady," Theoderich said with a nod and another smile. "And you have a knight under your command who lacks a squire."

"Who? Sir Waldar has a squire and I hardly think that Sir Rudolphus will need one. Wild horses couldn't drag him on a battlefield. Apart from them, there's only... oh."

The penny dropped.

"Oh." Ayla covered her mouth and looked at the young man in front of her—a look of mingled doubt, respect and pity.

Theoderich raised his chin, which wasn't prominent enough to make the movement noticeable.

"Milady, I humbly ask your permission to enter as a squire into the service of your vassal and chief commander, Sir Reuben von Riffgarten."

"Oh," Ayla said again. For the moment, she didn't seem capable of saying much else.

"Stand straighter or I'll shove a poker up your ass, damn you!" a distant voice drifted in through the window. "You there! Yes, you, the greasy little puttock! Bring me a poker, now!"