It didn't take Reuben long to repeat to the others what he had told Ayla about the Margrave's duplicity. The lack of the intense kissing and romantic murmurings now that they had company saved considerable time.

"I suspect they will start building some siege fortifications," Reuben concluded. "Just enough to keep up the pretense that they want to starve us out, and to create a camouflage for what they're really doing. But within twenty-five days, thirty at most, they are going to come for us, mark my words."

"What will they do, though, exactly?" Sir Rudolphus asked, his brow furrowed. "And what can we do to prevent it?"

Reuben shrugged. "They can't bring siege towers up the mountain, and anyway, siege towers are incredibly high. They couldn't build any of those without us seeing what they are up to. Their trebuchet is destroyed. That leaves only grappling hooks and ladders. It will be a raw fight: strength against strength, numbers against numbers."

"And we're outnumbered two to one," Ayla stated, gloomily.

"So what are they going to do?" Sir Rudolphus wanted to know.

Reeuben's voice was cold, hard, and decisive. "They'll need ten days to build enough palisades to hide what they're really doing. Another ten days to manufacture ladders, ropes and enough arrows for the archers to shoot with. Factor in another five to ten days for various delays, and we have about a month left to prepare."

He fixed a grim look on Rudophus. It didn't soften when it travelled and settled on Ayla.

"At the end of that month, they're going to attack."

Ayla had trouble swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"Reuben... I know our odds aren't as catastrophic as they used to be. I know that you've done a lot to increase our armed forces and train the men. But even with the terrain and fortifications in our favor, it'll still be an army of six hundred professional men at arms against an army of three hundred, mostly consisting of peasants."

"Peasants who I trained," Reuben reminded her again. If Ayla didn't know better, she might have thought he sounded a little hurt.

""I know, Reuben, but still, we'll be outnumbered two to one. If we face the enemy like that, we'll be slaughtered."

Reuben nodded.

"I know."

Ayla blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"I said I know."

"I know what you said! I... Well, I just thought you might deny it."

"Why would I deny it? Why would I contradict you, when you have summarized our military situation so admirably?" He gave her one of his devious smiles. "You are right: if we face them like that, we will be slaughtered. Which is why we will face them in a totally different way."

If Ayla hadn't absolutely loved his devious smiles before, she did so now. She could feal it: the dark purpose behind that smile, unfolding before her. This wasn't just a strategically meeting. He had something up his sleeve. And if Ayla knew Reuben, it would be something be something bloody.

"What do you mean?"

His smile widened, until it looked worthy of Lucifer himself.

"Just a little plan of mine."

"And by 'little' you mean..."

"Evil, Milady."

"I thought as much."

"I've been working on it for some time—just in case our enemies should eer dare and storm my lady's castle."

He bowed. The way he said "my lady"—mine—rang in Ayla's ears. It was the most intense tone his voice had ever adopted. More intense then when he talked about killing people. More intense even than when he talked about her. This tone he only used when he was talking about killing people for her.

"Bernd? Rüttger!" Reuben clapped his hands, breaking Ayla's daze. "Bring in the chest!"

The door to the hall swung open and two men almost ran into the room, carrying a large wooden chest between them. Ayla had to admit, she was really impressed by how well Reuben had the men trained to follow his orders. Sometimes she wondered what would happen if he told them to jump off a cliff. But then, maybe she didn't want to know.

"May I present, Milady?" With another devilish grin, Reuben gestured to the chest. "The solution to all our problems. The secret weapon that is going to save us and rid us of our enemies."

"You mean with this we can drive the enemy army away?"

"No." Reuben's eyes blazed. "We can do better than that. With this, we can grind the Margrave of Falkenstein into dust and destroy him once and for all."

Ayla felt her knees grow weak. Never once during the entire siege had she contemplated the possibility of destroying the Margrave. Holding out against him, yes. Maybe even driving him off. But destroying him? Making it so that he would never bother her and her people again, and she could live in peace for the rest of her life?

For one fleeting moment, she had a vision of this future: No army outside the gates, the village rebuilt and buzzling, the peasants plowing the fields again, and she and Reuben, alone, in her bed-chamber, kissing and—

Quickly, she slammed the mental door shut on her vision before her imagination could get out of hand.

"What's the catch?" she asked, peering suspiciously at the evil temptor.

"Catch?"

Reuben actually managed to make an innocent face. Ayla had no idea how—it was like a lion managing somehow to look like a lemming. Quite an astonishing feat.

"You know what I mean. No plan can be that perfect—and most certainly not one coming from you. Not when you put on that face. So tell me: What is the catch?"

"I don't think there is a catch with this plan. In fact I think it is perfect."

By now, Ayla was quite versed in Reuben's devious ways. Versed enough to hear the subtle hint in his voice.

"But," she said, narrowing her eyes, "If I knew what the plan actually consisted of, would I think that there is a catch?"

"Well... you might, possibly. But there's really no reason to."

"Reuben?"

"Yes, Milady?"

"What is your plan?" Raising her hand, she pointed to the large chest. It set, ominous and massive, in the middle of the room. "What is in that chest?"

Reuben stepped towards the chest and bent to open the lock. Without looking back at her, he said: "Now, before you say anything, I want you to think about this objectively. Try to remember that it is your people's lives that are at stake here, and that victory is well worth breaking a few rules—no matter who set them."

"Reuben—just open the chest!"

Wordlessly, he flipped back the lid and stepped back. Ayla took a step forward—and then froze, her gaze fixed on the objects in the box. For a moment, her horrified mind refused to acknowledge what her eyes were seeing. But when she heard Sir Rudolphus' deep intake of breath beside her, she knew it wasn't just a bad dream or a halluzination of hers.

"Reuben!" Ayla's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "You can't seriously be suggesting... No! That is..." Many a word flashed through her mind: impossible, diabolical, unholy, forbidden—but none seemed to capture the audacity with which Reuben broke the most holy laws of all. She shook her head. "No, I can't believe this, Reuben! Not even you would..."

She looked up at him, outrage and terror mingling in her eyes. He met her gaze head-on.

"Yes," he said. "I would."

*~*~**~*~*

Ayla had called the others in. This was too serious a matter now for them to avoid the meeting because of childish fears and superstitions. They all stood gathered around the open chest, gazing at the unholy objects inside.

"Dear Heavens above," Linhart murmured.

Waldar muttered a low oath. "How did you get the smith and carpenter to make these? I would have thought that they would rather have their hands cut off than make a single one!"

Reuben shrugged, nonchalant.

"Oh, neither of them knew what they were actually making. I had them make the parts, and then had then a few men assemble them who are very loyal and reliable."

"And by that I suppose you mean they're scared to death of you?" Ayla inquired.

The smile Reuben sent her way was so deadly delicious, it almost made her forget the contents of the chest right in front of her. Almost. "Where's the difference, Milady?"

"And you honestly propose that we use these against other men in battle?" Linhart demanded, his voice hoarse. "Have you no shame? No honor?"

"No. Not a bit."

Ayla elbowed him in the rips. He didn't even seem to notice. His gaze went around the room, meeting each pair of eyes in turn.

"I know this seems extreme, my knights, Captain, but consider the advantages. If we give one of these to each of the peasants, if we train them to use them—"

"Why do you even suppose they would touch them?" Linhart wanted to know. "They are devout Christians! They would not lay a finger on an accursed thing that has forbidden by his holiness the pope himself."

"What they don't know won't bother them," Reuben growled. "They're peasants. They spend their lives tilling the fields, not studying church edicts and papal bulls. They will be blissfully ignorant of the pope's decrees—unless someone tells them."

The glare he directed at Linhart made absolutely clear what would happen to such a someone.

"Please, Captain." Ayla's voice was soft as she put a restraining hand on Reuben's arm. "Consider this objectively. I don't want our men to needlessly die in battle. I don't like this idea any more than you do, but we're in a desperate situation. Reuben's plan could help. For the first time we would be gaining a real advantage over the Margrave."

"But at what price?" Linhart asked.

Burchard nodded. "We can't sell our souls for a mere earthly victory."

Anger flashed in Ayla's eyes. "I am not selling my soul! My father raised me to be a good Christian, and I will do anything I must to protect those I love and have sworn to shelter. If it means using those... things," she gestured to the chest, "then so be it! That does not mean I am selling my soul!"

She looked around for support. But Waldar didn't say anything. So Ayla's eyes settled on Sir Rudolphus. He blushed and shook his head, regretfully.

"I'm afraid I must agree with Burchard, Milady," he said, hesitantly. "Being quite versed in matters of worldly and canonical law, I know of the edict of which he speaks. In Canon twenty-nine of the Second Lateran Council, it says: We prohibit under anathema this murderous art which is hateful to God, to be employed against Christians and Catholics."

"Anathema?" Reuben raised a derisive eyebrow. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Well... it means hell. Forever."

"If you won't express yourself more clearly than that," Reuben growled,"I'm going to show you my version of hell. And trust me—you won't like it."

"Anathema is another word for excommunication," Sir Rudolphus explained, hurriedly. "If we do this, if we follow your plan, and the pope gets to hear of it, we will be cast from the fellowship of Christians forever. Our souls will be fair game for the devil, and we will burn in hell for eternity for what we have done."

Reuben raised an eyebrow. "And that's it?"

"Um... yes. I believe so."

"Good. Well, unless anyone has any significant objections to make, we'll move ahead, shall we?"

"Yes."

The word was out of Ayla's mouth before she had truly realized she had made her final decision. It felt strange, and frightening—yet she knew it was what she had to do. For Reuben. For her people. For everyone, even those who would hate her for it.

"Milady..." Burchard growled.

"I'm sorry, Burchard," she cut him off. "The safety of my people is at stake." Taking a step towards Reuben, she reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "Those monsters out there have attacked us again and again without provocation. They have tortured us, tried to starve us, desecrated our graves and burned our homes. They have lost the right to be called our fellow Christians, and the right to be treated as such. We will do this."

She infused her voice with as much command as she could. For a moment or two Burchard held her gaze, battling her, resisting... then his moustache twitched in a grudging smile of admiration.

"Your will is my command, Milady."

"Yes," Ayla said. "It is." And for the years he had faithfully served her father, and been one of her very best friends, and also because she loved the old bear dearly, she added: "Thank you."

He nodded. Then his gaze swiveled to Reuben, and all the love that had been in his eyes went up in smoke. "My going along with it won't change one fact, though," he told the red knight in a low voice. "This plan is evil. Evil to the core."

Taking Ayla's hand more tightly in his, Reuben met Burchard's eyes, and smiled Ayla's favorite devil's smile. "Of course. It is my plan, after all."

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Greetings, my Lords and Ladies,

I'm still sick, I'm afraid. :( But I managed to scramble together a chapter for you. Hope you enjoyed it :) Now I'm off to swallow some bitter pills...

Farewell

Sir Rob