The Robber Knight's Secret

21. Rock and Rumble

Once they had found the dead knight's armor, it took Reuben only minutes to put it on and arm himself. He had to admit, there were advantages to having a squire. The little squirt could tighten all the armor straps you couldn't reach without dislocating your shoulder, and he handed you your weapons and equipment with a bow and a "There you go, Milord, I hope everything is to your satisfaction, Milord?"

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. If the boy didn't get himself chopped to pieces tonight, he might be inclined to let him keep both his job and his head.

The final strap tightened with a squeak of leather on metal. Reuben picked up a mirror from the table and gazed at himself. The armor was a bit too roomy in the region of the belly, and a bit too tight everywhere else, but apart from that, it fit him well. Luckily, the previous owner had been a tall man.

Reuben raised an eyebrow at the lad.

"Well, squire, what do you think? Do I now look the part of one of Falkenstein's knights?"

Theoderich swallowed, and glanced down at the corpse on the floor. Blood was still leaking out of it onto the carpet.

"Y-yes, Milord. Absolutely. You look magnificent."

"'Excellent." Taking the knight's helmet from the table, Reuben placed it on his head. It was a standard model that lacked the hinged visor of Reuben's own helmet, but that was all the better. People wouldn't expect him to bare his face. The metal settled down over his head, effectively parting him from the rest of the world, except for a few narrow visor slits. Now he was once more what he had been born to be: a killing machine, clad in iron.

"That knight." Reuben drew his sword and, slipping it under the surcoat of the corpse on the floor, lifted the bloody cloth a few inches, showing off his coat of arms. "Do you know his name?"

"You mean to say you killed him and you didn't even know who he was?"

"You don't need an introduction to stick a knife into somebody. Now, do you know his name or don't you?"

"T-the swan and star is the crest of Sir Ernolf von Rothuf. According to my old master, he's one of the most powerful vassals of the Margrave von Falkenstein."

"How wonderful." Reuben clapped his gauntleted hands with a crash that made the squire jump. "It seems I've killed just the right man. Let's go."

He stepped outside without giving Theoderich time to think. In front of the tent, the laughter and joking among the men died the moment they caught sight of him. All of them jumped to their feet and bowed as deeply as they could. Reuben, true to his role as the arrogant liege lord, a role which came rather easily to him, didn't even acknowledge the greeting. He strode towards the center of the camp. Within minutes, he reached a second palisade that surrounded the heart of the encampment.

"No entry into this section unless you're part of the trebuchet crew," the guard beside the gate yawned, drawing his helmet a little further into his face, so whoever had come to disturb his nap wouldn't succeed. "Make yourself scarce!"

Reuben didn't say anything. He simply reached out and tipped the man on the shoulder. Groaning, the guard lifted his helmet a fraction, just enough to see, and blinked up at him. The next moment, he jerked violently and the helmet toppled off his head.

"Milord! I'm so sorry, Milord. I didn't mean any disrespect, I would never—"

Reuben decided he had gotten this far with non-verbal communication, so why not continue? He drew back his arm and slapped the guard full across the face. It was no real blow—it wouldn't kill or maim or someone—but it was just enough to slam the fellow back against the palisade and maybe loosen a tooth or two.