Reuben woke up in a bed that wasn't his, in a stone room he didn't recognize. That in itself wouldn't have been too strange: he often woke up in unfamiliar rooms, when he had gotten drunk the night before and the proprietor of the inn had had to carry him up the stairs. The fact that Reuben was missing his sword, tunic, and pants however, and that there seemed to be three arrows sticking out of his back, was slightly more disturbing.
Quickly, Reuben reached behind and checked where exactly the arrows had pierced his skin—on the right side, far away from his spine, his lungs, and his heart, so the injury was not life threatening. He wondered why he had passed out in the first place. He must have been thrown forward by the arrows and knocked his head on something. Of course, he couldn't remember feeling any pain in his head, but that was the only logical conclusion.
How embarrassing!
Because of this stupidity he now was here, probably the prisoner of the very men who earlier this day had had the audacity to demand his surrender. He, a prisoner? Bah! His face contorted in a grim smile. We'll see about that.
Nimbly, he jumped to his feet. The arrows in his back twisted a bit from the motion. It was a curious feeling.
In a flash, he examined his surroundings. He was in a friendly, warm-looking room with a carpet on the floor and drapes displaying a cheery pattern of flowers in front of the narrow windows. Quickly, he took a few steps along the wall to measure the space. The room was about fifteen feet wide and twenty-three feet long. Its furniture looked well-made, and consisted of a comfortable bed, a chest, a wardrobe built into the wall, two chairs, and a table with a chess board on top. Beside the chess board stood a little vase, in which he could see a few daisies. Reuben frowned. This didn't look much like a prison cell.
He went to the door and pushed. It swung open, easily. A further indication that his original theory had not been correct. Reuben knew from long experience that prisons tended not to have unlocked doors.
He pulled the door shut again so that nobody passing outside would notice he had awoken and went to the window. The movement twisted the arrows in his back again, and he felt trickles of blood streaming from his wounds, but he paid them no heed. There were more important things to think about right now.
Having reached the window, he measured the narrow gap in the stone wall with a practiced eye. Too narrow for him to climb through—damn! Well, at least he could have a look where he was. Maybe that would give him a hint as to who was holding him and why they had brought him here.
Reuben had a very bad feeling about his current situation. If people took good care of you, that usually meant they wanted you to live so that they could have the pleasure of torturing or enslaving you later. Personally, he wasn't up for either of those options.
His plan was simple: to get out of this place and far away as quickly as possible. He had no clue where he was—the last thing he remembered was fighting the men in the clearing, and after that, there were only the strange and terrifying visions of unconsciousness. The dungeons... Yes, he remembered dreaming of the dungeons while he was unconscious, and of the aghast faces of his interrogators, and the darkness, and the girl...
Strange.
He frowned. Why had the girl played any role in his dreams? The girl he had robbed only today? Normally, only his torturous days in the dungeon plagued him. Nevertheless, he could have sworn that for a minute he saw her face floating above his. Why was that? Well, she had been a pain in the ass. Maybe, he thought with a wry smile, enough of one to be lumped in with his other nightmares.
Shaking his head, he berated himself. These useless meanderings got him nowhere. The girl was long gone and he was awake now. His only aim was to get out of this place, quickly, and if possible, alive.
Reuben took the last step to the window and his eyes widened. Before him lay the most beautiful view he had ever seen. A narrow, fast-flowing river, winding its path between gentle wooded slopes. They formed a valley, the same valley he had ridden through earlier. The house he was in had to stand on a tall hill, maybe a mountain even, right in the middle of the valley.
Reuben's eyes traveled downwards and saw one, no, two great walls surrounding the house, with towers here and there, atop which fluttered banners showing a white flower on a blue background. There was also a gatehouse with a portcullis with guards on duty. Servants were hurrying about and men in armor were gathering in the courtyard in front of the house.
No, not “house.”
Reuben raised his hand and slowly caressed the thick stone wall beside the window. Not a house—a castle. The castle. Reuben's heartbeat quickened. The castle where the lord of these lands lived. The man who was responsible for exacting justice on people like thieves, murderers, and, oh yes, robber knights.
He had to get out of here or he was a dead man.
*~*~**~*~*
Ayla was collecting all she needed from the kitchen and the store room. Both Burchard and her maid, Dilli, insisted on following her around, trying to dissuade her all the while.
“Milady, it is simply not proper,” Burchard repeated his main argument for the twenty-seventh time.
“Would it be more proper for me to let him die?” she asked, taking a few medicinal plants from the cupboard and stuffing them into her bag.
“No, but...”
“And do you know anyone else with any medical experience around here but me?”
“Medical experience? You watched an old nun mixing brews while you were tutored at the convent! That's no medical experience.”
“It's better than what you have. Or did you, by any chance, spend three years of your youth at a convent, disguised as a girl?”
Burchard turned fiery red and growled: “No!”
Despite her distress, Ayla allowed herself a small smile. “Good. I would have been shocked by your morality, otherwise. Honestly, Burchard, Sister Priscilla taught me one or two things. I have to try and help him. No one else can.”
“It's still not proper,” Burchard murmured. “To treat his wounds you will have to see him without his... It's not proper.”
Beside him, Dilli, too shy to say a word, nodded vigorously, her brown curls bobbing up and down.
“Don't be silly, Burchard.” She sighed and looked around at all the plants to choose from. “Dilli, I'm going to need a little bit more time to get everything together. Why don't you see how he is?”
The young girl pondered this for a few moments. “Err... because he is a half-naked stranger?” she suggested.
“Dilli?”
“Yes, Milady?”
“That was a rhetorical question. Go and see how he is.”
The girl curtsied. “Yes, Milady.” She hurried off, out of the kitchen and down the stone corridor towards the room where they had brought the injured young man.
*~*~**~*~*
Reuben had not taken two steps towards the door when something occurred to him. If he were in the custody of the lord of these lands and all his crimes were known, they would have locked that door. So perhaps there was still hope. But if they did not know who he was, why take his armor and sword? It was very confusing.
Well, he wouldn't find out anything by just sitting around and waiting for the answers to come to him. He opened the door and cursed, as he felt more blood flowing from the wounds on his back.
He would have to do something about that, before the loss of blood rendered him unconscious. What the hell did these people who had taken him think anyway, just leaving three arrows in his body? Damnable insolence!
He thrust open the door and strode down the corridor. Appreciatively, he let his eyes travel over the tapestries and fine weapons on the walls. This was a rich castle. Once they had healed and fed him, maybe he could empty their coffers of all gold before he disappeared. They surely wouldn't miss it, and it would be no more than they deserved for their insolent treatment of a knight.
When he was halfway down the corridor, a door to the side opened and a young servant girl entered. She had shoulder-length, curly brown hair and a pleasant, if not particularly intelligent, face. Well, what could you expect? She was a servant. Maybe she would be able to tell him what he wanted, nonetheless.
“Hey, you,” he called out to her, raising a commanding hand. She turned.
As she saw him, her face drained of color and her mouth fell open, making her look even less intelligent than before.
“Don't stand there gawping,” he admonished. “Tell me where I am, get me my sword, and then lead me to the lord of this castle. I wish to have words with him!”
The girl let loose a blood-curdling scream, turned, and fled down the corridor. Reuben looked after her, perplexed, wondering what on earth might have induced the silly girl to react so strangely.
Then he reasoned that the sight of a man spattered in blood and with three arrows sticking out of his back was probably enough cause. Females tended to be squeamish like that.
He tried to follow the girl, but stumbled and had to steady himself against a wall. Why was he feeling so dizzy all of a sudden? Lights started appearing in front of his eyes, and not the right kind of lights, either. They weren't where the windows in the corridor were, and their coloring went from red to blue and then to purple.
Still steadying himself against the wall with one hand, Reuben used the other to grope for the wounds on his back. Copious amounts of blood were streaming down from the arrows.
“Damn!” he muttered, and fell over.
*~*~**~*~*
When Reuben came to, he was lying under a blanket on the same bed as before. He blinked, slightly dazed. To his right, he heard the folds of a dress rustling. The servant girl.
“So you managed to get me back here again, did you?” he grunted. “Why on earth did you run away?”
“Run away?” came the reply in a steady, ironic voice. It sounded familiar, but it was not the voice of a servant. “You're not that scary. What are you talking about?”
“I...” He turned his head and stared into two large, blue eyes, set in a delicate ivory face surrounded by a crown of golden hair. With an exclamation, Reuben jerked backwards.
“You! I thought you were just a nightmare!” he growled.
The girl! The girl he had robbed. So he hadn't just dreamed that part—she had been there, after the fight. But if she had, that presented one interesting question: Why was he still alive? And who was she? And what on earth had she been doing out there in the woods in the first place, with mercenaries everywhere? All right, not one question. Many questions. And many chances to lose his head.
“Nightmare?” Anger flared in the girl's blue eyes. “No. I'm just the person who saved your hide, thank you very much!”
“You... saved me?”
“I don't know why you sound so surprised! Do I look like the kind of person who would just let a fellow Christian bleed to death?”
Measuring the fiery expression in the girl's eyes, Reuben decided to keep his real opinion in regard to this quiet and answered with all the civility he could muster: “Why, no, of course not, Lady...?”
The question mark at the end of the sentence was clearly audible. She ignored it completely.
“How very nice of you. Now, do you mind telling me what you were doing out in the forest without a cloak or a weapon with three arrows in your back?”
Without a... cloak?
It took a few moments for him to understand. Of course! They must have found him without his armor and without weapons. The mercenaries must have taken them, those greedy bastards, and left him for dead. The girl must have found him in the forest afterwards. She had no idea who he was, thank the devil! He remembered her threats all too well.
“What were you doing out there?” she repeated.
“Bleeding,” he said, with a haughty grin. “A lot.” That would put her off and stop her from asking any more questions. Any mention of blood and women ran for the hills.
“I'll say.” She scowled. “I ruined my dress bringing you up here.”
He blinked, surprised. “You brought me up here yourself?”
“Well, not alone. You're a heavy fellow, you know. I had a few men helping—but I stayed, to make sure you were all right. It was messy.”
She spoke the truth. Reuben hadn't noticed it before, but now that he took a closer look at her, he could see that the long dress concealing her maidenly figure was spattered in gore. She didn't even seem to notice. What kind of girl was this? The personal witch and executioner of the local lord? No, not lord, lady. The mercenary had said these parts were ruled by a woman, a Lady Ayla. That must be a horrible old hag, to have such an unnatural creature in her service.
“And what did your mistress have to say about you bringing a strange man into the castle?” Reuben asked, observing her closely.
“My mistress?”
“The mistress of this castle. Lady Ayla.”
The girl smiled mischievously for some reason before saying: “Oh, she wasn't really pleased. You see, she doesn't particularly like to have ungrateful louts in her home. But in the end she agreed that we couldn't just let you bleed to death. Which brings me to the matter at hand: I've got to take care of those wounds in your back. Turn over.”
Reuben hesitated. “So... you're the local wise woman? The village witch?” She was wearing astonishingly fine clothes for that, if you looked past the bloodstains.
She nodded. “You could say that.” With a commanding wave, she gestured him to turn over. “I'm also the local person in charge, so you had better turn around now. By the way, my name is Ayla. Lady Ayla.”
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I have good news, my faithful readers! Apparently, I have been elevated t knighthood ;)
Several of you have started calling me 'Sir Rob' in their comments, and since one cannot argue with the multitude, I shall humbly accept my new title and move from my current quarters into a nice castle on the nearest mountain :D :D
Now all I need to do is come up with a coat of arms for myself :D :D
I hope you liked the latest chapter!
Yours truly,
Sir Rob
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GLOSSARY:
Wise woman: On the edge of medieval villages there often lived solitary women who were knowledgable in healing and herbs. They were often the first to be suspected of witchcraft.