The sound of footsteps came from the dark interior of the tower. Only moments later, Burchard stepped out onto the wall, bowing to Ayla and, much more reluctantly, nodding to Reuben.
“The men are ready,” he told them, his voice just as tense as Reuben's. “They only await your signal.”
“Good.”
As the three of them stepped closer together and turned east to watch the outer gates, another clap of thunder sounded. It was closer this time. With a little “plink,” the first raindrop hit Reuben's helmet. Another followed, and another. Burchard put the hood of his cloak up. Reuben unfastened his helmet from the leather strap on his belt and put it in place over his head. He suddenly looked a lot less human and a lot more like the monster Ayla had met in the forest so long ago.
Shivering, Ayla put her arms around herself. She should have remembered to bring a cloak. Now it was too late. Now, she couldn't get off this walkway. She was transfixed by what she knew must be happening beyond the outer wall.
Of course, she couldn't see it, but she could feel it. She could feel the enemy scout spotting the light from Hans’s torch. She could feel him running back to his camp, as fast as his feet would carry him. She could feel him stumbling into the camp, drunk with excitement. She could feel the rising bloodlust of the mercenaries at hearing the news that their enemies' defenses were down. She could feel Sir Luca de Lombardi stepping out of his tent and activity spreading through the camp as he gave the order they had all been waiting for: the order to attack.
The enemy was coming.
So she just stood there, as the rain fell faster and faster, and her dress only provided a rudimentary protection against the elements.
“I can't persuade you to go back into the keep, can I?” Reuben asked.
“No.”
“It will get dangerous up here.”
“I'm fully aware of that.”
She heard him sigh. Without taking his gaze off the outer gate, he shrugged the cloak off his shoulders and hung it around hers. Gratefully, she snuggled into the cloak, which was coarse compared to her usual linen garments, and far too large for her, but oh-so-warm and comforting. And it smelled of Reuben—a wild, manly smell that, when she closed her eyes, almost made her forget where she was. She could roll herself up into a little ball of warmth and pretend that she was safely back at the castle, that the danger was over, and that she and Reuben were alone in a cozy little room, while raindrops pattered on the roof outside…
The harsh noise of metal on stone woke her from her nocturnal daydream. Her eyes snapped open, and she stared in the direction of the gate, where the noise had come from.
She saw only darkness.
“What is it?” she whispered. “What was that noise?”
“Look.” Reuben pointed, but Ayla still couldn't see anything. Only after a few more seconds did she begin to distinguish several black shapes in the grayness of the rain.
“One of them must have bumped against the gate in the dark,” Reuben muttered. “Blundering fools! If you leave your torches behind to be stealthy, you should at least be able to see in the dark, or you had better leave your armor behind to stop making such a racket!”
Ayla squinted sideways at Reuben in his monumental red plate armor and a great helmet on his head with only one thin slit to see through. He could hardly be more armored if he tried. He seemed to hear her unspoken question.
“I know how to fight at night,” he growled. “This is not my first battle in the dark. Brescia, Faenza, Taillenbourg…I have gotten used to it over the years.”
Ayla squinted at the black shapes again. “Can you see what they are doing?”
He snorted, and his breath escaped through the slit in his helmet out into the open, forming a small cloud in the cold air.
“I do not have to look in order to know what they're doing. They're securing the gatehouse, making sure all the guards are gone. Then…”
Suddenly, lightning flashed, and the night was lit in brilliant white. For one moment, Ayla didn't need Reuben's descriptions anymore: She could see it all for herself. The enemy soldiers, about two dozen in total, had spread out on either side of the gatehouse, forming a bridgehead for the enemy army. More soldiers, many more, column upon column, were marching up the hill toward the gates, the pounding of their heavy boots even beginning to be audible above the rain. The lightning shone on the tips of their spears and their cold steel armor.
Ayla was paralyzed by the sight, until Reuben grabbed her shoulder and jerked her down.
“Down! Down with you!”
With a surprised gasp, Ayla felt her legs give way, and she landed roughly on the stone walkway. Looking startled from left to right, she realized that both Reuben and Burchard were already kneeling, concealed by the crenels.
“It’s not just we who can see by the light of the lightning! If they catch sight of us,” Reuben growled, “all is over. They must not suspect we're here. Surprise is everything.”
Ayla was breathing rapidly. The sight of the enemy soldiers inside her walls had hit her like a fist of iron.
“Reuben…are you sure this is going to work?” There was moisture in her eyes. She wasn't exactly sure whether it was tears or the rain, though she hoped very much it was the latter. “If they take control of the courtyard…”
“It will work,” he cut her off, his jaw taut. “Just as long as you stay down and stay quiet!”
He was nervous, she could see that. He wasn't as sure of this plan as he’d like to be. But they had to take this chance. It was the only one they were ever going to get.
Ayla nodded. “I understand.”
“Good. Remember—stay down!”
Reuben let go of her shoulder. He pushed himself up from the walkway and, without rising, peeked over the top of the crenels.
“What's happening?” Ayla demanded in a low voice.
No answer. The only thing Ayla heard was the increasing torrent of rain. Water now stood in little puddles on the walkway and was beginning to soak through her woolen cloak. She shifted, pushing herself further up against the crenels, which afforded her at least partial protection against the cold sheets of water.
“Reuben!” she repeated more insistently. “What's happening?”
When she still got no answer, she turned and stretched her legs, attempting to get up. But a big hand clamped down on her shoulder.
“Stay down,” Reuben growled. “I'll tell you what I see when there is something to see. The lightning blinded me. I have to wait for my eyes to adjust.”
Impatiently, Ayla cowered beside him, staring up at the blood-red metal monster she still had trouble identifying as Reuben. Rain ran down his helmet and in through the slit, but he didn't seem to mind. He sat as still as a raptor, waiting to spring.
Then, another flash of lightning cut through the darkness. And another. And another. Thunder began to roll, not just as individual, distant explosions of sound but as a continuous assault on the eardrums. The thunderstorm had arrived in full force.
“They're coming in.”
Over the earsplitting racket around them, Ayla could hardly hear Reuben's raw snarl. She leaned closer, and so did Burchard on the Red Knight’s other side.
“They're coming in, in full force. More than three hundred have already passed the gate and are spreading out in the courtyard. Sir Luca rides in front. Beside him rides a standard bearer, holding the banner of the Margrave aloft.”
“Where are they heading? Are they going directly towards the inner gate?” Ayla demanded to know. They had left the inner gate slightly ajar, so as not to alert the enemy to what was really going on. If they decided to make for the gate before the entire force was assembled in the courtyard…
A shiver ran through Ayla at the thought.
“No!” Reuben shook his head. “They seem secure. They think nobody knows they're here. I can tell from the way they move.”
“I want to look.”
“Ayla, it's too…”
“Don't tell me it's too risky! You are looking, and so can I! This is my castle they are marching into, and I will make sure everything goes as planned!”
Reuben turned his head to look at her. Because of the red metal visor, Ayla couldn't really see his face. But she was pretty sure his expression wasn't a very pleased one. Then Reuben looked at Burchard, who shrugged.
“Don't look at me. I gave up arguing with her years ago.”
“All right,” Reuben growled. “Take a look, if you absolutely must! But be careful!”
Slowly, so slowly, in fact, that she hardly felt as if she were moving, Ayla slid her head up between two of the imposing crenels of the castle wall. Just as her eyes peeked over the stone, another lightning bolt shot across the sky, followed immediately by a clap of thunder louder than any before. The storm was here.
Oh yes, it was.
Ayla's eyes widened at the sight of at least four-hundred mercenaries, standing arrayed in neat lines in the outer courtyard of the castle. A few cavalrymen were guarding their sides, and more men were still streaming into the gate from outside.
“Dear Lord,” she gasped. “How many are there?”
“Exactly as many as before,” was Reuben’s grim reply. “They only appear more now, because they are past your gates and inside your home.”
“Shouldn't we do something?” Ayla could hear her own voice quavering. Her heart was beating frantically against her ribs, trying to escape. “Isn't it time now? Before it is too late?”
“No! They must all be inside. We cannot leave a force outside the walls that would still be strong enough to prevent us from breaking the siege!”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She bit her lip, trying to get her fear under control. But the grim faces of the butchers down there, looking like devilish undead in the harsh white glare of the lightning, were frightening the wits out of her.
Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she again peeked over the wall into the courtyard. Almost all the soldiers had passed under the portcullis into the courtyard now.
“It's almost time.” She could hear Reuben's voice from her left, but she didn't turn to look. Her gaze wouldn't move from the men in the courtyard. About fifty had still to pass under the arch into the castle.
Then only forty were still outside.
Then only thirty.
Then twenty. Eighteen. Fifteen. Thirteen. Eleven.
Slowly, the three of them began to rise from the behind the stone crenels. Ayla nodded to Reuben. Of all her enemies, only ten remained outside her walls. And they were hurrying inside as they watched.
“Very well, Reuben,” she said. “Now we shall see if your plan is any good.”
“May God have Mercy on us,” Burchard muttered.
Reuben scowled. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Turning to Ayla, he whispered, “I have not forgotten the promise I made you the last time we parted.” Through the visor slit in his helmet, she could see his fiery gray eyes burning into her. “I'll be back for my compensation.”
She reached up, aching to hold him but not daring to in front of Burchard. So she just swiftly caressed his gauntleted hand, one single time. The last time she might ever touch him.
“God be with you, Reuben,” she whispered.
It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see his face. She could feel his devilish grin even through a thick plate of metal. “Thanks, but I think, in battle, I prefer Satan’s company.”
Before she could say anything, he had risen to his full height and marched over to a section of the wall that was clearly visible from the courtyard below. Or at least it would be, were there any lights. But just now, no lightning was illuminating the castle. There was a break in the thunder, and thus, nothing could steal Reuben's thunder. He bent down to where a burning torch lay, concealed behind the crenels, and straightened again, holding it up, up into the air, visible for everyone.
“Men of Luntberg!” he roared. “To your arms! To victory!”