The Robber Knight's Love

34. Silent Oath

Isenbard was lying on the stone walkway, his bevor ripped from his throat, a long and bloody gash reaching from his chest to his carotid artery, where the blood was streaming out in a red river. His helmet was also gone, torn off and smashed to pieces by some enemy's sword.

“Captain Linhart?”

Someone was speaking. It sounded like Reuben, but the words didn't make any sense to Ayla. Nothing made sense anymore. Isenbard couldn't be wounded... And he most certainly couldn't look as if he were going to die.

“Captain Linhart! Are you listening to me? Go and check along the wall to the west. There might be more enemies trying to get over the wall. I'll check to the east.”

“Who do you think you are, trying to give me orders?”

There was the metallic ring of a sword.

“Err... all right. West wall. I'm on my way.”

“A very wise decision, Captain. You three—stay here and guard Lady Ayla. If she is harmed in any way when I return, you will have to answer to me.”

Quick footsteps hurried off.

Ayla didn't look up to see whom they belonged to. She could only stare at Isenbard's pale, wrinkled face. Strangely enough, a smile lay on his lips.

Quickly, Ayla bent down. She ripped off a piece of her sleeve and started winding it around Isenbard's bloody neck.

“Don't ruin your dress, girl,” he muttered. “It's not worth it.”

“What do you mean?” she hissed between clenched teeth, suppressing the urge to cry. “You are not worth it? Because if that’s what you mean you can shut up right now, you stubborn old fool!”

He tried to shake his head—but winced, and decided that it wasn’t a good idea.

“No. If I could be saved, I would happily let you tear a hundred dresses to pieces. But I cannot, and you know that.”

“No! No, you're going to be fine! I'm going to save you. I am! I... I…”

By now, Ayla had wrapped three layers of cloth around Isenbard's neck. Still, it only took half a minute for the impromptu bandage to be soaked with blood.

The wound was too big, too dangerous. The bleeding couldn't be stopped. Tears fell from Ayla's face and mingled with the blood on the cloth, running down the side of Isenbard's neck in a salty, red rivulet.

It was too much. Simply too much. Ayla collapsed onto his blood-soaked chest, crying her heart out. Arms came up to hug her tightly. Maybe it was only her imagination, but in this brief moment they seemed to have all the strength that they had lost along with youth, so long ago.

“Shhh,” Isenbard murmured. “Don't cry, Ayla, don't cry. It's not so bad, you know. All of us have to die some time. I...” he coughed, and the flow of blood increased for a moment. When he continued, his voice was weaker, but still audible. “I could have died of the pocks, or some other terrible disease. Instead, God has shown me his favor: I died protecting my mistress from harm.”

“You did,” Ayla choked out. “You did protect me.”

“Did I fulfill my oath of fealty? Is the castle safe?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, though in truth she had no idea whether it was true. Was the castle safe? She had no idea what would be found on other sections of the wall. There might have been more attacks, the castle might already be breached, soon to be overrun.

But how could she tell him that? She couldn’t. Not now. Not now that he was d—

No! She couldn't even think the word! This was Isenbard! Always there, always reliable, always the perfect knight, her father's oldest friend and foremost protector. He couldn't just... go.