Without ceremony, Ayla threw open the door and stepped onto the landing at the top of the small staircase that lead down into the dungeon. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted over the assembled crowds of friends and chained enemies: "I need volunteers to help me form a bucket chain! As many as I can get! The castle is on fire!"
All heads turned. All eyes stared up at her. Not one man or woman said a word.
With three quick steps, Ayla was down the stairs and in front of Launas, the man who had comforted the young widow earlier. He didn't realize what she was going to do until she slipped her hand into her belt pouch and pulled out a large, iron key.
"Milady!" His voice was a rough whisper, his eyes wide and disbelieving. He tried to step back, clutching the child she had entrusted to him as if the baby could somehow protect him from his life being turned upside down, but Ayla grasped his arm and held him in place.
"Give the child to his brother," she told him, nodding towards young Bodo.
"But Milady..."
"No buts! Do as I say, now!"
Taking a deep breath, Launas handed the baby down to Bodo. A moment later, Ayla had grasped his chained wrists. One turn of the key, and Launas' chains fell to the ground, clattering on the stone. In a work of seconds, two more men were freed. They stood there, staring at her in incredulity. So did Burchard, who was still in the clutches of two of Launas' friends, further down the dungeon.
"Well?" Ayla raised an eyebrow at the first freed man. "The castle is about to go up in flames. Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help save lives?"
There was a moment of hesitation. For that one moment, the fate of the feud hung in the balance. For that one moment, Ayla was surrounded by three enemy soldiers who could kill her, if they wanted to.
Then the moment passed.
"You heard the lady!" Launas shouted. "Let's get to work!"
It only took minutes to free all the soldiers in the dungeon—at least a dozen men, plus as many women who had instantly volunteered, leaving their children in the charge of the elderly. Ayla entrusted them to the capable hands of Burchard, who cursed her, and called her three sorts of foolish, but accompanied them upstairs anyway. He repeatedly glanced nervously over his shoulder as if he expected the freed prisoners to stick a knife into him from behind at any moment.
They didn't. In fact, they seemed just as eager to help as the women were. Ayla supposed that the desire not to be burned to death was powerful bond. A stronger bond, anyway, than the oath of fealty to the one doing the burning.
Well, I'll find out soon enough if I'm right about that.
Letting others rush past her, she stopped half-way down the corridor, in front of the dungeon that held her two noble prisoners. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside.
"What the do you want?" A voice growled from the corner. Looking over, Ayla saw that Sir Blasius huddled on a blanket there. "And what's that infernal noise, all that stomping and clanking? It's the middle of the night, and some people are trying to sleep!"
"The noise you hear is your soldiers running out of the dungeon," she told him. "They have been freed."
Sir Gregor, who had been slumped in another corner, sat up bolt-upright. A child who had rested on his crossed legs nearly toppled off. Sir Blasius, however, wasn't nearly as impressed by the news. To him, it didn't even seem to merit waking up all the way.
"Finally come to rescue us, have they?" he grumbled. "It was about time! Tell me when it's time for you to be put on the rack, witch, will you? I'll continue my nap until than."
"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you," she told him sweetly. "The Margrave hasn't come to rescue you. It wasn't he who freed your soldiers. It was me."
That woke Sir Blasius up.
"What?"
"It's really simple. I freed your men. I unlocked their chains, and my steward is showing them their way outside right now."
Blasius stared at her, blinking like a sleepy goldfish. For once, he was lost for words. Ayla might have enjoyed the sight, if her business hadn't been so urgent. She knew that outside, the flames were growing rapidly. She had to get out there. But she had to what she was here for first, or the help she had just gained might turn around and attack her.
She felt Sir Gregor's eyes on her, and turned to him.
"Perhaps," the knight said, watching her face very closely, "calling them 'our soldiers' isn't quite the correct term anymore." There was understanding and admiration in his gentle eyes. And if Ayla wasn't mistaken, a slight smile played around his lips.
"Perhaps," she allowed.
"Congratulations, Milady. You are a skilled tactician."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Blasius demanded. "Gregor, what are you babbling about?"
"They aren't our men any longer," Sir Gregor sighed, "because they are hers now."
"Hers? What... how... why...?"
"I'd like to know that, too." Taking the sleeping child off his lap, Gregor carefully placed it on a blanket on the floor, and leaned forward. "I can't imagine that our men are too happy with the Margrave right now, considering the trap they walked into, when they were promised easy victory. But still... I thought it would take you at least another two weeks to pull them over to your side." His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "What happened?"
"Nothing much," Ayla shrugged. "Just your lord and master starting to bombard the castle with flaming projectiles, trying to fry us all alive. Your men are forming a bucket chain as we speak, trying to put out the flames."
"Ha!" Sitting up, Blasius barked a laugh. "You've made a big mistake, witch! As soon as the flames are out, they'll come running and will get us out of the dungeon. My soldiers will die to a man before they leave their beloved lord in chains!"
Ayla and Gregor exchanged a look.
"Does he really believe that?" Ayla enquired, curious.
"Sadly, yes."
"Well... I think I know pretty much what to expect from his soldiers. But yours—yours are another matter."
Immediately, Gregor's expression turned guarded. He hid it well, but Ayla saw it. She also saw the battle raging inside the knight. He wasn't far from the edge.
"Just you wait!" Sir Blasius shouted, rising to his feet. "My men would never desert their brave master! They'll be here in a few minutes! Then you will feel the wroth of Sir Blasius von Balderingen!"
Ignoring him, Ayla stepped closer towards Sir Gregor, who was still sitting on the floor, looking up at her, his face tense. She extended her hand.
"The men follow me for now—but I'm sure they would like their old commanders back. Well..." She through a look at Blasius. "One of them, anyway." Her eyes returned to Gregor.
"What do you say, Sir Knight?"
He shook his head, but the movement was small, almost unwilling.
"I have sworn an oath of fealty to the Margrave, Milady. I owe him my loyalty."
"Loyalty goes both ways, Sir Gregor. Just as you owe him fealty, so he owes you protection. And see how he is protecting you now: he is trying to burn you alive, along with the rest of us!"
Sir Gregor's face hardened.
"He is shooting his flaming missiles at the keep? Where the women and children are?"
"Yes."
"Not at the outer defenses?"
"Not a single shot. The keep is catching fire right now. If we don't do something, innocent people will die."
For one more moment, Gregor hesitated. Then he nodded, and got to his feet—only to immediately kneel down again, this time of his own free will.
"I swore an oath to the Margrave—but I have also sworn older, and stronger oaths when I took up my sword and shield." Ayla felt a shiver go down her back. The knight's voice was colder and deadlier than she had ever heard it. And yet, it was filled with the kind of Majesty that most kings never acquired. "The day I became a knight, I swore to guard women, children, and all others unable to defend themselves in their innocence. I denounce the Margrave traitor to those divine oaths, and I declare my oath to the House of Falkenstein broken. I rescind my fealty from the Margrave Markus von Falkenstein, and give it to you, Lady Ayla von Luntberg, daughter of Thomas, Count von Luntberg."
"You wish to become my vassal, Sir Gregor? Think carefully on this, for I have dangerous enemies."
His lips twitched.
"I am aware of that, Milady. I've studied your enemies in close detail."
Ayla couldn't keep her lips from twitching, too. "Very conscientious of you. Do you still wish to serve me?"
"I do."
He extended his hands, and Ayla took them. From the corner, Blasius watched, mouth agape.
"Then do you swear to cherish and protect me, your lady, as befits a vassal?" she asked.
"I do."
"Do you swear to love me more than your own life, as befits a vassal?"
Ayla could not help but remember the last time she had spoken those words. But Sir Gregor's look was nothing like the look Reuben had given her back then. Sir Gregor looked at her with respect and veneration. Reuben had looked at her as if he wanted to rip her dress off.
"I do," Sir Gregor said.
But then... Reuben always looked at her as if he wanted to rip her dress off.
"Do you swear," she continued, trying to push thoughts of Reuben out of her mind, "to love what I love, and hate what I hate?"
"I do."
"Gregor!" Blasius stumbled forward, until he reached the end of his chain and was jerked back. "Have you gone mad? You can't do this!"
"Do you swear that your swordarm will always be at my disposal?" Ayla continued, unfazed.
"I can," Gregor said, glancing at Sir Blasius. Then he refocused his gaze on Ayla. "And I do."
"Then rise, and be welcome to my service, Sir Gregor." Pulling him to his feet, Ayla inserted the key into the iron ring that encircled his wrist. It opened with a clink, and dropped to the floor.
"All right," Blasius said, his voice quavering. "You're free! Now you can stop play-acting, Gregor. Tie the witch up and unlock my chains!"
Sir Gregor rubbed his wrists. Ayla watched him intently. He seemed to notice, and looked up, a half-smile on his face. "Where is the fire, Milady?"
"Outside. The stables."
"Consider it taken care of." He bowed. "I and my men won't fail you."
He turned, and marched towards the door.
"Gregor!" Blasius shouted. "Gregor, you can stop acting now! Gregor! Come back and get me out of these chains, curse you!"
Ayla marched to the exit. At the door, she turned around a last time and smiled at Blasius.
"No need to keep shouting," she told him. "We'll be a while."
Then she stepped outside and closed the dungeon door behind her.
"Gregor! Gregor, come back!"
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Greetings, Milords and Ladies!
Sir Gregor has switched sides! What do you think? Three cheers for the newest members of Lady Ayla's army?
Farewell
Sir Rob