40. Holy Laws

                                    

                                          


                          
"Halt! Halt, you fools! You do not know what you are doing! Do not imperil your souls by touching the devil's tools!"
                          
Ayla heard the voice as clearly as everyone else in the courtyard. The whole crowd froze in place. She saw Reuben's eyes shoot to a spot at the front of the crowd. Inwardly, Ayla muttered a fine lady's equivalent of a curse. What the heck was going on over there?
                          
If she only hadn't stayed at the other side of the courtyard! But this had been Reuben's plan, and his performance. She had known that she had to get out of the way and allow him to do his job
                          
"Excuse me, can you let me through please? Please, I need to get through!" As fast as she could, Ayla began pushing through the crowd. It wasn't going very well. People were tightly packed, and they were so focused on whatever was going on at the other end of the courtyard that they needed some time to realize who she was, before they made way for her. "Excuse me, please, good people, let me through."
                          
"Do not listen to the deceiver!" a voice called from the other end of the courtyard. "He wants to tempt you into mortal sin! His words are poison!"
                          
What is going on there?
                          
Gritting her teeth, she pushed two peasants apart and squeezed through the gap. Quickly, she glanced up at Reuben, still standing on the keep steps above the crowed—and when she saw his face, she redoubled her efforts. She had to get there before any necks were broken or skulls smashed in.
                          
No, no, no! Why did this have to happen? It was all going so well!
                          
Taking two quick strides to the edge of the stairs, Reuben jumped, and disappeared into the crowd, which scattered, screaming. Then there came one scream that rose above the others, shrill and panicky.
                          
When Ayla finally broke through the last lines of the crowd out into the open, she saw a scene before her that made her stop in her tracks.
                          
Reuben was standing there, grasping another man by the throat. The man was perhaps five feet tall, and his feet twitched ineffectually in the air. His face was turning red like a beetroot, but still, Ayla recognized him.
                          
"Gernot?" she exclaimed. "Reuben, let the poor man go!"
                          
Reuben didn't move.
                          
"He said my words are poison," he pointed out in a low, dangerous voice. His arm was perfectly still, holding the peasant up with no apparent effort. His eyes were slightly narrowed. But other than that he showed no signs of the rage that Ayla could feel radiating off him. "Perhaps I should find a couple of crossed vipers. We could let them into the dungeon we're going to throw this worthless piece of dung into, and I'm sure he'd soon know the real meaning of the word 'poison'."
                          
"We're not going to throw him into a dungeon!"
                          
"We aren't? Milady, how irresponsible of you. We can't just set the vipers on him out here. There are children running around who could get injured."
                          
"We're not going to set vipers on him either!"
                          
"Oh. You should have mentioned that. Are you sure?"
                          
"Yes! Now let go!"
                          
Reuben opened his hand, and the man dropped to the ground like a stone. He lay there, sprawled and gasping for breath. His face only slowly returned to its natural color.
                          
"Gernot, what is the matter?" Stepping forward, Ayla knelt beside the prone figure of the peasant. "Why do you speak up against Sir Reuben? He only wishes to save all. We both do."
                          
Gernot looked up at her. It was not the look a peasant normally gives his liege lady. There was not an ounce of respect of it. Instead, there was something like... fear? Distaste?