Ayla watched anxiously as the enemy's advance guard crossed the bridge she had fought so hard to protect not so long ago. She was standing on the outer castle wall, Dilli right beside her. Under normal circumstances, nothing could have prevented her from being down there, beside the battlefield, taking care of the wounded. Only a few months ago, Ayla had disobeyed a direct order from her father and joined the troops.

Only this time, the order to stay in the castle had not come from her father. It had come from Reuben—along with the threat that if she didn't stay, he would tie her up, gag her, and leave her in her room until the battle was over. The scary thing was: she was sure he would really have done it.

"Don't worry, Milady." Dilli gently patted her mistress's arm. "He's going to be all right."

"I'm not concerned for him!" Ayla snapped. "I'm just angry he made me stay behind!"

"Of course, Milady."

"And don't try to placate, me Dilli!"

"As you wish, Milady."

A few seconds went by in silence. Ayla's fingers nervously tapped on the rough stone of the crenels. The cold wind tugged at her hair. Winter was approaching. She should have brought a cloak with her. But now that she was here, in sight of the opposing armies, wild horses wouldn't be able to drag her down from the wall.

A few more silent moments passed.

"D-do you really think he's going to be all right though, Dilli? Really and truly?"

Ayla felt a comforting arm go around her and let her maid pull her close.

"Yes, Milady. There's no greater warrior than Sir Reuben. You know that."

"But he can be so terribly rash! What if... if..."

"He won't be hurt, Milady. And if he is, you'll quickly stitch him up again."

Ayla nodded. She didn't think she had the courage to speak right now.

"By the way, Milady," Dilli said in a forcedly cheerful voice, obviously trying to take her mistress's mind off things, "you never told me that plan he had come up with for beating the Margrave's advance guard. I suppose it was secret before, but couldn't you tell me now? I mean, it has to start soon. The enemy is almost over the bridge already and—"

A distant rumble drowned out the maid's voice. The eyes of both young women were drawn towards the river, where the bridge was being torn to pieces, squashing enemy soldiers into meat pies, dragging them underwater, breaking their backs and bones. The eyes of the maid were wide, those of the mistress resigned.

"I-I see what you mean now, Milady." Dilli's voice was just a little bit too high. "He is a bit rash, isn't he?"

*~*~**~*~*

Sir Reuben stood on the bank of the river, watching with grim satisfaction as the enemy turned tail and ran.

One of the villagers, bloodstained and breathing heavily, but still clutching a pickaxe in his hands, appeared beside him. Wide-eyed, he stared after the retreating soldiers of Falkenstein's army. Then his eyes moved and with something like awe fastened on Reuben.

"You did it, Sir," he rasped. "They're running, just like you said you would. You really did it."

Reuben shook his head, smiling. "No."

Theoderich, the young fellow who had so strongly disapproved of his plan before, joined the two of them at the riverbank. From what he saw on the lad's face, Reuben gathered his new squire didn't disapprove any longer. There was something much more potent than awe there: hero-worship.

"But you did, Milord!" The young man's voice was even more reverential than his face. It told Reuben that if he had ordered the boy to jump in the river and swim after the enemy army right now, he would do it. "I thought we would never have a chance against them, and you beat them in the very first battle!"

"No, I didn't" Reuben repeated, clapping both of them on the back. "We did it, all of us together." It was a lie of course—the entire victory had been due to his brilliant plan. But what he had just said would spread quickly through the ranks. It would make the men look up to him even more and foster a sense of fellowship among them. They needed that for some reason to keep fighting.

The villager, stirred with emotion, bowed deeply to Reuben, while the squire fell to his knees, tears in his eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Milord. What next? Shall we gather up all the wounded and return to the castle?"

"Gather up our wounded, yes," Reuben said. "But leave those of the enemy lying where they are for now. And tell a few of the men to stay behind."

"Who, Milord?" Theoderich asked, eagerly.

"Hmm..." Reuben thought for a moment. Who would be most desperate to see the enemy destroyed? "Have any of the men got families with small children? Have some of them lost their livelihood when Falkenstein's mercenaries burned the village down?"

"Yes, Milord, quite a few."

"Excellent."

The squire's jaw dropped. He exchanged a look with the peasant beside him.

"Well, no," Reuben growled. "Not excellent, of course, I just meant those are the men whom I want you to tell to stay here, understood?"

"Yes, Milord!"

"And make sure they keep their weapons. We have still work to do."

"As you command, Sir Reuben."

Not long afterwards, a long line of soldiers, led by squire Theoderich and Captain Linhart, was marching up to the castle. Reuben watched them go, then turned to the ones that had stayed behind. At first glance, he could see the dangerous glint in their eyes. He had chosen his men well. These fellows would hardly need persuading.

"Take a look around," he told them, gesturing towards the muddy field. They followed his order and surveyed the desolation: the former meadow was a single, massive mud pit. Broken and bent weapons littered the ground. The remnants of the bridge still weren't done falling apart: now and again, a piece broke off and splashed into the river that had turned dark with blood.

"Take a really good look, men. This was only the first battle of many Falkenstein will make us fight. And what you see is the result: destruction, destruction and more destruction. Who is to blame?"

The answer came as a roar from many mouths: "Falkenstein!"

Reuben nodded. "Aye, Falkenstein and his men. Most of them have fled, cowards that they are. We can't reach them to exact our vengeance on them. Only a few remain—those that have been felled by our prowess." He jerked up his hand to point at the unconscious and wounded enemy soldiers on the ground. "They came here to kill us, kill our families and rob our corpses of whatever they could carry away."

Slowly, he took a few steps forward until he stood beside the prone body of a knight in a mud-spattered armor who was lying face-down in the dirt. He shoved his foot underneath the knight and turned him over with a kick. The knight didn't awaken.

"So," he asked in the silence in which you could have heard a pin drop, "what do you think we should do with them now?"

There was no answer this time. There was just the scrape of steel on steel as the men stepped forwards and drew their weapons. Reuben smiled.

*~*~**~*~*

After the collapse of the bridge, it hadn't taken long for one of the parties on the river bank to gain victory over the other. Both forces had been too far away and their banners too spattered with mud to be identified at this distance, but news didn't take long to reach the castle.

"The day is won!" Bringing his horse to a halt, Wecelo, one of Luntberg fastest couriers, jumped out of the saddle down in the courtyard and waved his cap up at Ayla, a wide grin on his face. Ayla felt an answering smile form on hers, as relief flooded through her. "The day is won, Milady, the enemy vanquished!"

"Our men—" she began, but Wecelo cut her off:

"They're already on their way, Milady, carrying what few wounded we have. They should be here in no time."

That was all Ayla needed to hear. She was into the tower and on the spiral staircase down into the courtyard before Wecelo could say another word.

"Milady!" she heard Dilli call behind her. "Milady, be careful! It's dark in there, don't fall!"

But Ayla didn't slow down one bit. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Only half a minute later she stood at the outer gate, looking down over the path towards the trail of soldiers that was coming up to the castle. But... wait. Something wasn't right. There were the usual men-at-arms, the recruited villagers, and the occasional man with a bloody bandage on his head or arm, but where was the rider in red armor? Where was Reuben?

Her heartbeat quickening, Ayla searched the crowd for a familiar face, any face! Finally, her eyes fell on a lean, orderly looking man in the front row.

"Captain Linhart!"

He looked up at her shout. Quickly, he handed his spear and shield to another soldier and came running up the path to bow before her.

"Milady?"

"Captain, where is your commander? Why is Sir Reuben not with you? Has something happened to—"

"No, no!"

Linhart hurriedly shook his head. "Sir Reuben is perfectly fine."

Ayla released the breath she had been holding. "Thank the Lord! But then why isn't he with you?"

"He's still down at the battlefield, together with a handpicked number of men. He said there was something he had to take care of and told me to go ahead."

"Something to take care of now, after the battle is over?" Ayla frowned. "Did you ask him what this is about?"

The Captain looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Um... when Sir Reuben gives an order, Milady, I don't ask. I obey."

Ayla sighed, and patted the Captain on the shoulder, reassuringly. "Don't worry. I know the feeling."

"I see, Milady."

"Is it safe to go down there, now?"

"Absolutely safe, Milady. Not one of the enemy is left standing."

"And are any of our people seriously wounded?"

"Nothing that can't wait a few hours, Milady."

"Good. Then will you have Eleanor brought to the gate? I've got to get down there and see whether Reuben is all right." Realizing what she had said, Ayla felt the color rush to her cheeks. "I mean... I have to hear Sir Reuben's report. In person. He's my commander, after all."

Linhart's lips didn't even twitch. He just gave a dutiful bow. "I quite understand, Milady. I shall have your mare brought out to you directly."

He was true to his word. Not two minutes later, Ayla was on Eleanor's back, and the mare was cantering down the mountain path, as fast as the tricky terrain would allow.

"Thanks!" Pressing herself tightly against the mare's warm body, Ayla stroked her glossy coat. "I really appreciate you hurrying so much."

Eleanor whinnied, and sped up even more.

"Or... maybe it isn't for my benefit?"

Eleanor whinnied again. This time, there was a questioning note to it.

"Yes, that black beast Satan is down there, too. You don't think Reuben would go into battle without his stallion, would you?"

Another whinny, and once more Eleanor sped up. By now, their tempo on the narrow mountain path was bordering on the suicidal.

"He's not good for you, you know," Ayla told her mare. "I could find you a nice, gentle reliable cart horse instead. How about that?"

Eleanor didn't even bother to react.

Ayla gave another sigh. "Yes, I thought as much."

Although she didn't entirely agree with Eleanor's reason for their break-neck speed, Ayla didn't attempt to stop her or even slow her down. She had her own reasons for wanting to get down into the valley as quickly as possible. Linhart's reassurance that Reuben wasn't hurt had only partly lifted her worry. If he was all right, why had Reuben stayed down there and not come up to her? Maybe he was wounded after all, couldn't move, and didn't want to admit his weakness. It wouldn't be so strange for a man who had tried walking around with three arrows imbedded in his chest.

Ayla knew she wouldn't be content until she had seen him, and made sure that he was perfectly all right. No, seeing wasn't enough either. She had to hold him, feel him, to make absolutely certain that every part of him was just as strong and vital and alive as it had been when he had last held her in his arms.

She was down the mountain now. Only up one more hill, and she would see the valley and everyone in it; she would see what was going on at the bridge. Eleanor climbed the hill in just a few seconds, and Ayla shielded her eyes from the sun to take in what lay down there.

There were the ruins of the bridge. There were a few men, collecting dented armor and weapons. More men stood guard at the riverbank. But no sign of Reuben. Where...?

There! Oh yes! Thank you, God!

There he was, kneeling right beside that fallen knight as if about to help him up. Ayla felt her heart expand with relief. He was alive and well! Quickly, she slid off Eleanor's back and started to run down the hill, directly towards him. She was just about to call out a greeting, when Reuben drew his sword from its scabbard and raised it over his head.

Frowning, Ayla sped up. What was he doing? Was the attack not over yet? But she could see no enemies anywhere—none that were conscious, at least.

Still, Reuben raised his sword, as if to strike an invisible enemy. She was only a few feet away from him now and could see clearly that there was no enemy left standing. There was only the unconscious knight beside him. What in God's name...?

When the chilling realization came to her, it froze Ayla for a moment. Just a moment. Then she hurled herself forward, into the path of Reuben's sword as it came down to sever the unconscious knight's head from his body.

"No! Reuben, don't!"

*~*~**~*~*

He heard the shout before he saw her. That was the only thing that save her life. Just before Ayla landed on top of Falkenstein's knight, Reuben diverted his blade to the left, and instead of sinking into Ayla's chest, it buried itself in the mud.

They both stayed like that for a moment: Ayla, lying on her back, staring wide-eyed up at Reuben, and he, panting, staring back at her, trying furiously to rein in his temper.

"What in the devil's name were you thinking?" he roared, gritting his teeth with the effort not to take her up and shake her like a ragdoll. "I could have cut you to bits!"

What was the meaning of this? He would have understood if she had thrown herself into his arms—that was only natural, considering he had just won a battle for her, and considering his ravishingly good looks. But throwing herself under his sword?

"I had to do it!" Her voice sounded breathless, but not afraid. It almost never did, damn her!

He leaned forward, until his face was only a couple of inches away from hers and told her, his voice hard as iron: "If I had killed you by accident, I would have been very, very angry with you."

"Which I'm sure would have mattered a great deal to me, being dead."

"Oh yes, it would have. Now, before I pick you up and drag you back to the castle where you belong, will you please tell me what was the reason for this foolish stunt of yours?"

She blinked up at him, as if it should be obvious.

"You can't kill an unarmed man, Reuben!"

"Of course I can. It's a lot easier than killing armed men, trust me."

"You can't do it! You simply can't!"

"Why?" he demanded, gruffly.

"Why? Because you can't! It's simply not done!"

He considered her words for a moment. The rage he felt at almost having cut her in half still blinded him, but slowly, his temper began to cool. Slowly, ever so slowly, it dawned on him what a fool he had been. Satan's hairy ass! To think of what he had almost done...!

"You're right," he said, lowering his head, feeling almost something akin to shame. "You're right, of course, Milady." Gripping her by the shoulders, he bent down even further and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. "How could I have been so stupid? You saved me from making a very big mistake today."

"Really?" Color rushed to Ayla's cheeks. She looked so adorable, lying there, smiling shyly up at him. Of course there was the fact that she was lying on top of another man—that fact Reuben could have done very well without. But still, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. "Do you really, really think so?"

"Of course." He nodded somberly. There was no use denying it—he had almost made a grave blunder. "Killing him would have been stupid. We should bring him back to the castle with us, clap him in irons and torture him. When he's told us everything he knows about the Margrave's plans, then we can kill him—slowly and painfully, of course—and display his body parts atop the castle wall for everyone to see." He pressed a second kiss on Ayla's forehead. "So smart of you to think of that, love," he whispered.

For some reason, though, Ayla didn't seem to appreciate the compliment. Instead, the smile vanished from her face and was replaced by an expression Reuben knew all too well.

He braced himself for the tempest.

"You... you monster! Display his body parts? You soulless beast!"

Reuben's heart sank. This didn't sound good. With a sigh, he pulled his sword out of the mud and started cleaning the blade. It wouldn't do for it to get rusty.

"Let me guess," he asked, continuing to polish the steel. "That means you don't want me to kill him at all."

"No!"

"Not even a little bit?"

"No! And how exactly would you kill somebody 'a little bit'?"

"Well, you could make a little hole into one of his main blood vessels. It would only need a tiny prick, and he'll slowly bleed to death over a period of—"

"Stop! I don't want to hear anymore!"

"Well, you asked." He considered for a moment. "What about torture? Do you have anything against a nice bit of torture?"

"I can't believe you even have to ask!"

"Er... does that mean yes?"

She glared at him. "Let me get up! Get out of my way."

Reuben rose to his feet and stepped back, but Ayla, in spite of her words, remained lying on top of the strange knight. She was looking up at him, her beautiful blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. Reuben thought it looked adorable, lying there in her pretty white dress spattered with mud, glaring up at him, but he knew better than to tell her that just now. She probably meant to look fierce and intimidating.

"If I get up, will you kill him?" she demanded.

Reuben twirled his sword, and slammed it back into its scabbard. "No, I won't."

"Do you promise?"

He nodded gravely and placed his hand over his heart. "I swear by my faith as a Christian."

"All right, I—" She was just about to get up, when she paused in mid-movement, and peered up at him again, her suspicion doubled. "I just remembered—you don't have any faith as a Christian."

A delighted smile split Reuben's face, and he couldn't help but admit to a feeling of pride. She already knew him so well.

"That's true," he admitted, giving her his most devious devil's grin.

"And you break oaths as easily as other people break twigs."

He nodded, the feeling of pride swelling inside him. "True, as well."

"Then why should I get up?"

"Because, if you continue to lie on a man that isn't me for one minute longer, I will pick you up, carry you into the castle, lock you into the highest tower chamber and throw away the key. Then, only I will be able to get to you by climbing up the ivy to your window, which I shall do every single night to make mad, passionate love to you."

Ayla blushed furiously and jumped up so quickly you could have believed the knight under her was on fire.

"My father lives in the highest tower chamber of the castle!" she snapped at him.

"Does he, now? Well, we'll have to be quiet, then. We wouldn't want our passionate lovemaking to disturb his sleep."

"Reuben!"

By now, Ayla's face had taken on the color of a tomato.

"If you're too hot, we could get rid of some of those clothes," he suggested, pointing to the mud-spattered dress she was wearing. "You're wearing too much for my taste, anyway. But we would have to go somewhere private, first."

"Stop it!" she hissed, looking around, probably to make sure nobody was near enough to overhear.

"Stop what?" Reuben enquired.

"You're trying to distract me! We were talking about killing people, or, to be exact, the reasons not to kill them."

"Which I haven't fully understood yet, to be honest, Ayla. Would you mind explaining again?"

"Well... you can't just kill unarmed people! You can't!"

"You said that before. It's a statement, not a reason. Besides, it isn't true. As I already mentioned, it's very easy to kill unarmed people. They usually don't fight back. Especially," he pointed to the knight on the ground, "if they're unconscious."

"I didn't mean that you weren't physically able to kill them, you boil-brained lout! I meant that you shouldn't!"

"Ah." Reuben stroked his chin, thoughtfully. "That's quite another matter of course. And why, if I may inquire?"

"Because it's wrong! It's immoral! It's unchristian! One could go to hell for such a deed!"

"Oh, is that all?" With a dismissive chuckle, Reuben drew his sword again. "I'm headed there anyway, so it's no problem. Just go back up to the castle and leave the torturing and killing to me, will you?" He leaned forward and in a lower tone, added: "It won't take long. When I'm finished, I'll come back to you and we can continue our discussion about removing some of your superfluous garments."

In a flash, she was back where she had been, bent protectively over the fallen knight, so quick Reuben didn't even see her move.

"No!" she hissed.

"No? You don't want me to remove your garments?"

"No! I don't want you to kill him!"

A grin spread over Reuben's features. "So you do want me to remove your garments."

Ayla's cheeks, which had just managed to cool down a bit, heated up again. "That's not the subject under discussion here!"

"I think it is."

"You always do! I won't allow you to kill him, Reuben! You're a good man, and I won't allow you to commit so grievous a wrong."

"Trust me, I've committed wrongs a whole lot more grievous than this. Quite a lot of them, in fact."

"That was before I was with you!"

He sighed, nostalgically. "And what simple times they were."

"I'm glad to hear I make life more interesting for you."

He stepped closer, until he was just an inch or so away from her. He towered over her, her slender white form fully swallowed by the shadow of his six feet seven inches of muscle, covered in steel. Still, no matter his overwhelming superiority of force, she did not retreat. He would have to have a talk about strategy with her, some day.

"I will take him back to the castle, Milady," he said, all jesting gone from his voice. "I will torture him for information, and then I will kill him. You made me commander of your armed forces and charged me with protecting your life and those of your people. This is what I say is necessary to achieve that goal. Now get out of my way!"

She glared up at him defiantly, her sapphire eyes blazing like blue fire.

"No!"

Reuben secretly wondered if she knew how magnificent she looked. He also wondered whether she knew he could pick her up and toss her aside like a twig. He wouldn't do it, of course, because that wasn't the thing to do with the girl you were in love with, but still...

"I said get out of my way!"

"And I said no, Reuben! There are some lines you cannot cross. If you did, if you sunk to your enemies' level, what would give you the right to defend yourself? What would make your life any more worth protecting than theirs?"

"The fact that it's my own, of course!"

"That's an unchristian thing to say!"

"Yes. And?"

"Reuben, you are the most evil, insensitive, unimaginably—"

"Um... excuse me?" Reuben heard a groggy voice from the ground. Both he and Ayla looked down and saw that the fallen knight was awake. He had managed to remove his helmet, revealing a angular face that, Reuben supposed, was moderately handsome, and black hair that was greying at the temples. "May I enquire who you are and why I am lying on the gr—"

Reuben's kick in the head interrupted him, and he went limp. "It's impolite to interrupt a lady," Reuben told the once more unconscious knight. Then he turned his attention back to Ayla. "Now, where were we?"

*~*~**~*~*

In the end, Reuben and Ayla managed to agree on a course of action: to take the survivors prisoner and bring them back up to the castle. Whether, however, this was to torture information out of them, or, as Reuben supposed Ayla wanted to do, to nurse them back to health and send them on their merry way, maybe with provisions for the journey and some money for their travel expenses, would still have to be determined.

Reuben, for his part, did as much determining as he could manage right from the beginning. He sent a rider back up to the castle who arrived long before them, and when he and Ayla rode through the gates, the appropriate quarters for the prisoners had already been prepared by Burchard, the steward. Burchard, who wasn't really that fond of Reuben generally, was always and gratifyingly in agreement with him on any subject that involved killing enemies and protecting Ayla. Reuben had no doubt that he had found a nice, cozy place for the enemy soldiers and knights.

Ayla, meanwhile, still hadn't given up trying to show him the error of his ways. Reuben thought it was a wasted effort: he was perfectly well aware of the error of his ways. He just didn't bother to correct it.

"You can't," she told him for about the seventy-sixth time. They were just walking up to the corridor that lead to Reuben's personal chamber and armory. He needed to get rid of his armor. Not that it was becoming too heavy for him; he was never tired of wearing armor. No, he just needed to get rid of it in order for what he had in mind next to happen. He had thought about it all during the battle. "You can't! It's wrong, Reuben, and you cannot tell me that you do not know the difference between right and wrong. You're a good man!"

Reuben opened the door to his room. Ayla followed him in, and closed the door behind her.

Ah. Good.

"You can't! You see that, don't you? Did not our Lord say that you had to forgive your enemy not seven times, but seventy-seven? It is a sin to—"

Reuben loosened the straps that held his armor in place. He removed the breastplate, then pulled off his gauntlets and threw them into a corner.

"—even contemplate doing such harm to another if he is helpless before you," Ayla continued. She didn't even seem to realize that Reuben was advancing towards her now, pulling off one piece of armor after another. He smiled. "Even if you have to defend yourself, you have to forgive them in your heart and—"

That was about as far as she got before Reuben pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth with his.

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No time for an author's note today, Milords and Ladies ;) I'm preparing for the wattys!