When Gregor glanced at the open dungeon door, he saw that it wasn't a knight who stood in the doorway this time, or a soldier, even an angel. It was a young girl, slim, dressed with simple elegance in a white linen dress, her long blond hair flowing down over her shoulders like the halo of cherubim.

What in God's name was a sweet girl like that doing in a place like this? Gregor hoped with all his heart that she hadn't spotted the torture instruments all around, or at least that she didn't realize the grim significance of the metal implements.

Go! He thought, projecting his words at the girl with all the force of his mind, praying his silent plea would somehow reach her. Run, before this monster of a red knight sees you! If he catches a glimpse of you—

Too late.

Slowly, the red knight turned around, the red hot tongs still firmly in his right hand. With his left, he pulled his helmet off and Gregor asked himself why he had bothered to keep it on before. If it had been for the purpose of intimidating his prisoners, he need not have bothered. The face that appeared from underneath the helmet—strong chin, wild, fiery grey eyes and a tangle of hair as black as the devil's heart—was scarier than the helmet itself. Gregor supposed that to ladies it might be a very handsome face, but to him, who had seen his share of battles and the men who fought them, it was the face of a killer who had thrown away his honor and sold his mercy to the highest bidder.

Gregor didn't know who the girl in the doorway was, but he didn't think she had very long to live in one room with this man, to judge by the fiery glare he directed at her. Desperately, Gregor tried to pull his hands free of the chains that bound them, but it was no use! He was imprisoned! And now this poor, helpless girl would feel the red knight's wrath instead of him!

The girl's mouth opened, probably preparing for her last scream.

It didn't come.

Instead, she took a confident step into the room, and raised a hand, pointing threateningly at the red hot tongs.

"What in the name of the apostles do you think you're doing, Reuben Rachwild?" the girl demanded, sounding not the least bit afraid. "Put that away! Now!"

Gregor's mouth dropped open.

"What, this?" The red knight's voice was deep and rough. But even though it was one of the manliest voices Gregort had ever heard, he somehow managed to sound like a schoolboy. The red knight glanced down at the glowing tongs in his fist, rather like a puppy who had been caught playing with a forbidden toy. "It's not as bad as it looks, really."

"It's a pair of red-hot iron tongs! How much worse can torturing people get?"

"Well, there's the rack, that's quite nasty, and the brazen bull, which in my opinion—"

"That was a rhetorical question! Put it away, Reuben. Now!"

The red knight sighed, and Gregor watched with growing amazement as he strode over to the bowl of glowing coals and deposited the tongs among the embers.

"Now are you happy?" he demanded.

"Not," the girl snapped, pointing to first Gregor, than Blasius, "until you explain to me why two knights are dangling from my dungeon ceiling like wet trousers from a washing line!"

"I wasn't going to hack any of their limbs of or something like that, if that's what you're afraid of," the red knight, whose name apparently was Reuben, grumbled. "I only wanted to scare them a little."

"Of course. That's why you had almost stuck those red hot tongs up his nose when I arrived," the girl retorted, pointing to Gregor.

"I haven't even touched him yet! I swear I was just going to ask them some questions. Now will you please leave and let me do my work in peace? This is no place for a lady."

The girl completely ignored him. Turning towards Gregor, she said with a kind smile: "I most sincerely apologize for what nearly happened here, Sir Knight. Rest assured that you will not be harmed in any way. I give you my word."

"Thank you, gracious lady." Gregor's voice was as raspy as a file, but he tried to make the best of it. "I owe you my deliverance. If ever you should need it, my swordarm shall be at your service."

The young lady nodded earnestly, while in the background, the red knight gave a derisive snort. The girl then proceeded to Blasius, and with the same look of kindness she had directed at Gregor, told him: "And to you, Sir, too, I offer my most heartfelt apologies. Rest assured that you will be taken down as soon as possible. Have you been harmed in any way?"

"Mmm! Mpf! Mhmmpf!"

The girl examined Sir Blaisus for a moment, than half-turned to direct a quizzical look at the red knight. "Reuben? Why has this man a rag stuffed into his mouth?

"That was the only way I could get him to shut up," the red knight growled. "Funny, actually, considering I came down here to try and make him talk."

"I cannot see anything funny about that!"

"You don't appreciate my humor, Milady? I'm hurt."

In that moment, Gregor made a decision. Watching the two of them, He had slowly been developing a hypothesis, and he thought now was the time to test it. He cleared his throat.

"Um... excuse me? Milady? Are you by any chance the Lady Ayla von Luntberg?"

The young girl turned towards him. "Oh? Didn't I introduce myself? I'm so sorry, how forgetful of me. Yes, I am Lady Ayla von Luntberg." She performed a little curtsy, then, scowling, pointed to the red knight.

"And this scoundrel over there is Sir Reuben Rachwild von Riffgarten, my vassal and commander of my forces."

Reuben performed a gesture with his hand that, Gregor was quite sure, wasn't part of courtly etiquette. Ignoring the gesture, he smiled at the girl, working from the assumption that she was his best chance to get out of this room with his head still attached and all his limbs in working order.

"God's Greetings, Lady Ayla. I am Sir Gregor von Armsheim, knight of the Holy Roman Empire. I would bow, but, as you can see..." He looked up at the chains that fixed him to the ceiling. "...I am rather inflexible at the moment."

The lady of Luntberg waved imperiously to her commander. "Reuben? Let him down."

With a sigh, the red knight went to the wall, where Gregor's chains, which were looped through an iron ring on the ceiling, were attached to another iron ring set into the stone. He detached the chains, and, none too gently, lowered Gregor to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Gregor's legs gave out under him. They felt less like legs and more like pieces of straw invaded by an army of ants. And his chest! Up there in the air, he hadn't noticed it; he had been too busy with the pain in his wrists and thoughts of impending death. But now his ribs throbbed madly from the batering they had received in his joust with the red knight. A garbled moan escaped Gregor's throat.

"Sir Knight! Sir Knight, are you all right?"

From where he lay on the flagstones, Gregor could just see the the hem of a white dress. Lady Ayla. She was hovering over him, clearly concerned. Good God, what a gentle lady! For the first time, Gregor felt a twinge of remorse.

"Of course he isn't all right," he heard the indignant voice of the red knight from a distance. "He jousted with me! He won't be all right for at least a month. How many of his ribs are broken, by the way?" Now the giant man sounded mildly curious. "I didn't have a chance to check yet."

"Shut up and let the other one down, too!"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes! And take the gag out his mouth while you're at it."

Grumbling a few words which, Gregor knew even in his befuddled state, definitely shouldn't be uttered in the presence of a lady, the red knight marched over to Blasius. Gregor could hear the sharp click, click of his metal-tipped boots as he passed him by. Then the red figure was gone, and the young lady was there again, her beautiful face etched with concern.

"Tell me, Sir Knight, did that brute really brake your ribs?"

"N-no, Milady," Gregor croaked. "Merely bruised. Nothing to worry about."

"You don't know her as well as I do," the red knight called over from the other end of the dungeon. "She can worry about a broken fingernail."

"Will you be quiet, Reuben? I'm trying to check for injuries."

From somewhere to his left, Gregor heard a thump, accompanied by a muffled groan. Blasius colliding with the floor, he conjectured. The red knight didn't seem overfond of handling his prisoners gently.

Through the thin tunic that was his only upper garment—his armor had been taken away—Sir Gregor could feel gentle fingers wandering over his body, probing here, pressing there. They didn't need long to complete their examination.

"You are all right," came the soft voice of Lady Ayla from somewhere above him. "No broken bones, and not even very many contusions from the joust. I'm impressed."

"I-impressed?" Gregor mumbled. "But I lost."

"You're still alive," Lady Ayla commented drily. "Trust me, I am impressed. Now, let me help you get to your feet—"

"If it's all the same to you, I'll remain sitting for a while, Milady. I'm not sure my legs could hold the weight yet."

"As you wish, Sir Gregor."

Pushing himself up from the floor, Gregor managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position up against the wall. He looked up at the lady standing in front of him. His first impression had been right—Lady Ayla was quite young. Seventeen, maybe? Looking over at the red knight, who was just at that moment dragging Blasius towards the wall, to dump him next to Gregor, he realized that this Sir Reuben, too, was quite young. Not as young as the lady, maybe, but definitely in the prime of his youth. He looked from Sir Reuben to Lady Ayla, then back again.

Oh. Can it be that the two of them...?

His musings were interrupted by a bedraggled Blasius, who crashed to the ground just two inches to his left.

"So," the red knight growled, turning towards his liege lady. "There you have them. Now what?"

"I... I'm not sure."

"You're not sure? Splendid! But you come down here interrupting me at my work."

"You were about to torture them!"

"Yes. And?"

"It would have wrong! A mortal sin!"

"It would have provided us with valuable information. May I suggest, Milady, that you get your noble behind up into the keep where it belongs and leave the mortal sinning to me? I'm very good at sinning, mortal or otherwise, and it shouldn't take long."

"No! Reuben, I won't allow you to do that to yourself! I can't!"

The red knight rolled his eyes. "I wasn't planning on doing anything to myself—just to them!"

"You know what I mean! I couldn't allow you to stain your soul with such a sin!"

"I happen to like dark colors."

"Be serious, Reuben!"

While the two of them had been shouting at each other they had been taking step after step towards each other. Gregor wasn't sure whether they were even aware of the fact, but their hands had gripped each other, then slid up the other's arms until they were standing in a tight embrace. Their faces were only inches apart. The lady's cheeks were flushed, and in the empty dungeon, the knight's heavy breathing was very audible.

"Ehem..." Gregor cleared his throat. He had a feeling that they were about to wander from the matter at hand. "Not that I want to disturb you, Milady, but what will become of us?" He gestured at himself and Blasius.

"Yes! I'd damn well like to know that myself!" Blasius demanded. They were the first words he had spoken since he had been gagged, and apparently, having a rag stuffed in his mouth had not improved his manners.

Stepping back, from Lady Ayla, the red knight gave him a dark glower that Blasius returned with a look of superiority. Not a wise thing to do, Gregor thought.

"We will have to discuss what your exact fate will be," Lady Ayla told them both, her face grave. "For now, you will remain our guests."

"Guests?" Blasius sputtered. "Chained to a wall? Is that your notion of hospitality, Milady?"

"Let's say you are just as much welcome guests as you were friendly visitors when you rode into my lands with drawn swords," Lady Ayla said, sharply. "Be careful what you say, Sir Knight! Don't forget you are within my home, and in my power!"

"Forgive my companion, Milady," Gregor said, ramming his elbow into Blasius' side. "He is very temperamental, and his tongue runs away with him sometimes."

Lady Ayla turned her gaze on Gregor again, and as she did, her eyes became much kinder. "I can understand that. I can only imagine what it must be like, being the captive of your enemy. Please rest assured, you shall not be harmed, and you will receive food, water and clothes."

"And our freedom?" Gregor asked, quietly.

Lady Ayla hesitated.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, looking lost. "I don't like keeping anybody caged against their will, Sir Gregor, but Sir Reuben is right about one thing: we do need information. And besides, we cannot allow you to rejoin the Margrave's army."

"So we are going to torture them?" Sir Reuben's voice demanded hopefully from behind Lady Ayla. The lady ignored him.

"Would you be willing to reveal to me what you know of the Margrave's plans?" she asked. "And afterwards swear an oath never again to return to Luntberg or in any way have a hand in a war against me or my family? Then I could set you free, and you could return to your home in peace."

Sir Gregor considered it for just a moment—then shook his had, sorrowfully. "Alas, Milady, but my oaths of fealty to the Margrave already bind me. I could not swear what you propose without becoming an oathbreaker first. And then, what would my word be worth?"

Lady Ayla nodded gravely.

"Well, let's see if we can't break that oath of fealty for you." Reuben stepped cloister, cracking his knuckles. "If not, at least we can break a few of your bones."

"I'll swear the oath!" Blasius sat up so quickly it made his chains rattle, and forced a smile on his face. "No problem at all. My oath of fealty from the Margrave won't keep me from telling you whatever you want. Just tell me what I have to say, and I'll swear the oath right now."

"And break it again as soon as you're out of the range of our arrows," the red knight growled, stepping even closer. "I don't think so, you miserable little worm! Now shut up! I wasn't talking you!" Blasius opened his mouth to say something—but then caught sight of the expression on the red knight's face, and shrank back against the wall.

"I thought you would say that," Lady Ayla continued speaking to Gregor as if neither Blasius nor the red knight had uttered a word. "So you see, I cannot, in good conscience, give you your freedom now. Your oath of fealty would require you to rejoin my enemies, and I cannot permit that. I must think of my duty to defend my people first and foremost."

Gregor sighed. "Very true, Milady. I would act the same in your position. I understand."

"Well, pocks and pestilence, I sure as hell don't," Blasius snapped. "Our noble birth entitles us to be released for a ransom! I demand to be set free at once, or... or..."

Lady Ayla ignored him.

"As I said, you will receive everything you need while you are here," she told him. "I am truly sorry that fate has placed us on opposite sides of this conflict, but it cannot be helped."

"Indeed, it cannot, Milady."

"Are you listening to me, you straw-haired vixen?" Blasius demanded. "Let me out these chains at once!"

"Can I at least torture the scrawny one a bit?" The red knight growled from behind Lady Ayla. "The one who can't keep his foul mouth shut? I'm sure it would do him good to have his tongue cut out."

"No, Reuben! You most definitely may not!" She turned towards Blasius, stepped forward, and knelt down in front of him, where he sat against the wall. "Your complaints have been noted, Sir Knight. Would you open your mouth, please?"

"Open my mouth? Why d—?"

Quick as a flash, Ayla pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and stuffed it into the knight's mouth. The startled Blasius gave a squeak and tried to spit it out, but the cloth was firmly lodged between his teeth, and his hands were chained behind his back. There was nothing he could do.

As if she'd just done nothing more extraordinary than blow her nose, Lady Ayla got up again and turned to Gregor. She nodded at him.

"Thank you for your honesty, Sir Knight. I am glad that even among my enemies, there are men of honor. Food shall be brought down to you soon. If your friend behaves himself, maybe I'll even instruct the man who brings it to remove his gag."

"That would be most kind, Milady" Gregor said, bowing his head, respectfully.

"Mmmm! Mmmpf! Fmmm!" Blasius said. He did not bow his head respectfully.

"Until we meet again, Sir Knight."

"Farewell, Milady."

"Mmm! Mmmpf!"

She turned, and, the massive figure of the red knight marching ahead, left the dungeon. As the door closed behind her, Gregor glanced over at Blasius, who was doing his best to spit out his new gag, and failing miserably. A smile flitted over his face. He knew it probably wasn't very wise, but he was starting to like this young lady who was his arch-enemy.

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Greetings, Milords and Ladies!

Are you all happy Sir Gregor didn't get fried to a crisp? ;-)

I would like to thank all those of you who have replied to my call for volunteer proofreaders and editors! With your awesome support, we're going to get book 2 of this series published, hopefully soon! :)

Farewell for now,

Sir Rob