The Temporal Knights (31 page)

“Suggestions?”
Peebles said after they’d gone.

“That man’s a vulture,” Lemay said at once, but no one commented.

“I suggest we show Lord Eadwulf exactly what we can do. Let him make no mistake about our capabilities. His ignorance could be a great danger to us all. I think a little demonstration is in order, and then I say we take him flying. It’s worked on the others,” Dr. Rice said.

“I tend to agree,” Matt said. “We can’t let his stupidity cause him to be rash like he was this afternoon.”

The General nodded. “So we’ll put on a display...perhaps show the people left behind exactly how we defeated the Danes at Countisbury Hill.”

“Tis something I would like to see, verily,” the Lady Merwinna agreed.

“All right,” the General said. “A small demonstration, no more than a few mortar shells, and a couple of bursts from an M60...a few flame-throwers. Let’s make it small but effective. Colonel, see to it.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Dr. Rice, Lady Merwinna, I would like you to see that word gets around that we will demonstrate just how we routed the Danes...play it up. Let’s plan on late tomorrow evening, when the light from the flame-throwers will be more effective.”

“And that will give us time to recover from the morning hunt,” Dr. Rice added.

Peebles smiled and dismissed the meeting. The Lady Merwinna took her leave, as did the Colonel and Dr. Rice.

“Major Thane,” the General said as Matt made his way out. “I need to speak with you a moment.” Matt nodded, standing at attention. He had a good idea what was coming.

“You seem to be getting along quite well with Sir Oldalf’s daughter,” Peebles added, hating to have to go where he must with this.

“Her name is Ellyn,” Matt answered simply, and the General nodded.

“Ellyn,” he repeated, noting the correction. “Have you told her you’re leaving?”

Matt just stared at the ground in front of him, his actions admitting that, in fact, he had told her nothing of the kind.

“If we get the ship fixed,” he said lamely, and immediately wished he had not.

“When we get it fixed,” the General answered, a sharp glint coming into his eyes. “You know full well it will eventually be repaired. I thought you were completely behind this mission, Major. I thought that’s why you volunteered.”

“When I volunteered,” Matt said raising his voice a little, his own anger surprising him. “I had nothing but a life of blood and death. If we’d gone as planned, just after the crossing to this time, there would have been no temptation, but now...now you have to admit the temptation to stay is very great.”

“This mission is vital to the survival of....”

“Don’t give me that,” Matt interrupted angrily, much to his General’s surprise. It was obvious the Major felt very strongly about this....too strongly, and no pep talk was going to solve this problem. “Could you go?” The Major demanded. “If it was right now, could you go and lose another six years of your life? Could you go?”

Peebles thought about it seriously for several minutes, considering the idea. It would be rough to go; he could at least admit that. Life here, in this time, definitely held a certain charm. He made a mental note to speak with everyone on the team to assess how they now felt about the mission. The Major had his say, as did every man under his command. They’d all lived through hell; there was no denying that, and God knew they’d all earned a chance at a new life. It wasn’t in him to deny any of them that, unless it jeopardized the mission to utterly destroy the Skawps. What happened before could never be allowed to happen again, not while there was a chance of preventing it. This life, this time, was very appealing, very seductive, but if he thought even for one minute that his staying behind would give the Skawps an open door to repeat their genocide, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“I would leave right now,” he finally answered, firm in his convictions, and explained his reasons, and watched as the Major wilted before them. “We owe it to all the men we left behind, Matt,” the General added softly. “John Wilder, Duncan Hoff, Cummings, they all sacrificed so much more for this victory.”

“But we’ve done so well here. We may be able to change the course of history with what we’re doing,” Matt argued softly, not convincing even himself.

Peebles nodded. “Yes, we may be able to change what will be, but none of us will know for sure. History may not be so easy to change and we will need to alter it radically if we hope to defeat the Skawps when they finally do come. But what’s worse, we, those who stay behind will never know, doubt and worry will be with us forever, but you Matt, you will know one way or another whether we have succeeded or not. We have to send a ship. We have to do everything in our power to win victory. It cannot happen again Matt; it cannot happen again,” he finished, tears of anger and sorrow glistening in his eyes. Matt understood his pain, and for a brief moment relived every horrifying day in amazing detail. No, he could never forget the Skawps and what they did to his people...to his family…but...

“It’s six more years,” he whispered quietly, and still there was no guarantee that he would return to a vibrant Earth. “You will have your life General, while we risk everything again, without fully knowing what we will be returning too…if we return at all.”

Peebles nodded, conceding the point. “Ah, but you will get to meet the Queen Bitch of our enemies and with luck, blow her all to hell!”

Matt bowed his head at last, not crying, but truly wanting too. “Yes Sir,” he shouted coming to attention. “I am still in it to the end,” and with that he turned and smartly left the tent without even noticing that he hadn’t been dismissed.

The General sank back into his chair, cursing life, cursing the gods, cursing himself, but mostly cursing the Skawps. No matter the time, no matter the place, the bastards always seemed to have them by the short hairs.

Chapter Eight

S
ir Eadwulf listened quietly as the two lords of the west told of Ubba’s defeat, but it was hardly believable. It was simply not possible to completely destroy a castle as well built as the Stronghold at the Hill and route over a thousand vicious Danes in one afternoon...and not lose a single man in doing so! 

‘Twas na possible!’
If not for his own encounter with the strangers he would have suspected the two noblemen of creating a fanciful story to cover their own cowardice. But he’d witnessed with his own eyes a little of the stranger’s power and so he quietly reserved judgment…plus, he’d gone to the Ealdorman’s underground cells and met the Dane they claimed to be Ubba the torch. There was no doubt that the man was a Northman, but exactly who was anyone’s guess.

“Tis an unlikely tale to be sure,” the Earl added, realizing how ridiculous their claims sounded to his ears. “But methinks ye should take a trip to the Hill if ye doubt our word.”

“Na, na,” Eadwulf replied, but still he asked many questions of both vassals, going round and round, but they stuck to their fantastical story. Twas simply na possible, and yet...mayhap, this be the way to reclaim the crown which had been stolen from his family so long ago. These strangers, if even half of the story could be believed, were very dangerous, but mayhap their might could be used for his gain. He would have to be careful, verily careful, and at all costs he must keep these strange men away from Alfred.

“I’ve sent messengers to the King,” he finally said. “I have warned him to stay away from the invaded western lands until I can come to him personally and assure his safety. Also I want no more messages going out to him unless I hear and consent. I’ll not have him charging up here with his fyrd to rescue us, or to be led into a trap. Understand? Only I communicate with the King from now on, at least until the real purpose behind the strangers is ferreted out.”

“But…” Sir Æthelred protested, confused by this new twist. Lord Eadwulf held up a hand.

“I also forbid either of ye to meet with the Genaral or his men until we know just wot they truly want. Tis for yor own protection that I do this.”

Sir Æthelred’s face went red. “Na…Eadwulf,” he answered his eyes going hard, “ye forget yorself. Methinks ye forbid me nothing!”

While technically the men were of equal rank, Æthelred considered himself far above Eadwulf’s station. After all, his father was Burgred, the last King of Mercia and it was only after the deal to wed Alfred’s daughter Æhelflæd that Æthelred himself relinquished the title and pledged his loyalty to Alfred as High King.

The room went very quiet and Æthelnoth, the Ealdorman of Somerset, sat very still, wide eyes. Æthelnoth would protest nothing of Sir Eadwulf no matter how insulting, to him the Earl of Kent was simply the most dangerous man he’d ever known. His fear was so great that he could hardly stand to be in the same room with the man. Sir Æthelred however, finally realized that something was up, but just what he could not say. No matter Sir Eadwulf’s power and influence, he would continue to contact his brother by marriage, King Alfred.

“Ye forget yorself Earl, methinks my fyrd at Wedmore ‘ave a say,” Eadwulf lied, smiling inwardly at Æthelred’s stunned face.  “Yah, riders have been sent, me army could be here in two days time. Ye
thinks I planned to move on Ubba with fifty knights?”

“Eadwulf ye cannot,” Æthelred objected, stunned by the man’s stupidity. “These men
be hard fightin’ men. I tell ye they crushed Ubba at the Hill. Ye move yor fyrd to Athelney and yor men be slaughtered.”

Sir Eadwulf remained quiet for a long moment considering Æthelred’s objections. The man seemed sincere and everyone knew he was a true supporter of Alfred. Could the strangers truly be so powerful? His fyrd, which was actually camped at Rochester, was nearly five thousand men strong with nearly three hundred
horse. It was a sizable force for the day and should certainly be able to handle a few hundred men camped out in the open.

“Ye will keep away from the Genaral,” the Earl of Kent insisted, “and
na let them within the walls of Athelney.”

Æthelnoth nodded his acceptance, his face betraying his excitement.
‘Mayhap soon the Earl of Kent be na more,’
he thought hopefully.

“And I be having both yor seals,” Eadwulf added calmly. The Ealdorman Æthelnoth went pale, utterly speechless but Æthelred stood quickly, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, only to find he was not wearing it.

“I’ll na,” Æthelred answered slowly, trying to maintain a sense of calm. Sir Eadwulf had clearly taken leave of his senses. Æthelred wondered briefly if the man had taken a blow to the head while falling from his horse. One thing was for sure he would never give up his seal.

A seal was a stamp used with wax to close a note or letter. It confirmed the authenticity of the communiqué to the person receiving the message. It was considered a high crime to forge another noblemen’s seal, and was rarely done. It was considered an act of war for any nobleman to steal or take another’s seal.

“Ye will do it now! I’ll na have good King Alfred movin’ on the Lizard if these strangers be as dangerous as ye say!” Eadwulf barked loudly and the Ealdorman jumped to his feet. He shuffled toward the door but still Æthelred had not moved.

“Come M’lord,” Æthelnoth said softly and together they took their leave. As soon as the men were gone Eadwulf called in Sir Eadric, Lochlin, and Baaldwin, along with a half a dozen of his trusted lesser knights, just in case. His caution was justified when the noblemen returned.

The Ealdorman returned first with Sir Oldalf in tow. He had his seal in hand but he had yet to hand it over when the Earl of Mercia barged in with ten knights, including his son Æthelstan and the renowned Sir Beonoth. As far as Eadwulf could tell, the Earl of Mercia did not bring his seal, but he was armed with a sword this time.

“Wot is the meaning of this Sir Æthelred?” Lord Eadwulf asked calmly, but everyone in the room was on edge.

“I must protest. Ye will na be havin’ me seal...tis a matter of honor,” the Earl replied all of his senses alive, waiting for the attack.

“Na even for the protection of yor cousin and King?”
Eadwulf asked his words little more than a sneer.

“Na even for me King,” the Earl said, standing firm.

Sir Eadwulf was quiet for a time, relishing the tension in the air. He knew that with but a word from him, someone would die here today, but he never seriously considered it. Oh he was quite sure he and his men could take the Earl’s party even though they were outnumbered. Æthelred’s son did not count for much, but he’d heard that Sir Beonoth was a very nasty fighter.

“I’ll have yor word then,” Eadwulf finally said, and the tension dissolved. “Send no messengers to the King, without consent.”

The Earl frowned, relieved that Eadwulf had not pushed the point, for surely it would have come to bloodshed. If he agreed he would be submitting to Eadwulf’s will and thus raising him to equal or beyond. But if it meant the fool would leave his army at Wedmore, it was worth the slight. “Ye have me word.”

There was a sharp knock at the door and Eadwulf nodded to Sir Eadric, who promptly opened it.

“M’lord,” Sir Bergaman said stepping through the door into the surprisingly crowded room. “I thought ye would like to know that the strangers are callin’ a gatherin’. They be plannin’ to show everyone ‘xactly how dey destroyed the Danes. Tis called on the morrow just a’fore sunset.”

Sir Eadwulf quickly looked at Sir Æthelred. The Earl was thoughtful though his faced betrayed nothing of what he was thinking, but the Ealdorman was smiling in anticipation. Eadwulf also smiled. This was precisely what he wished. Now he would have a true picture of the stranger’s abilities, and not have to decipher a lot of nonsensical fairy tales and boasts.

“Excellent,” he said, then dismissed the two lords. “I want them watched,” he told Eadric after they’d gone, who nodded and left to see to it

“Excellent,” Eadwulf repeated aloud when he was alone, thinking that this could be the key to regain the throne for his family. If the strangers were as strong as Æthelred boasted they must be kept from King Alfred at all costs. Kent was very strong now, and the strangers could make him all the stronger. He would find a way to control them. He was very encouraged, very hopeful.

Æthelred however, was anything but hopeful. He went straight to his rooms, where he brooded and thought for an hour before sending a huscarl to fetch his sons. While he was at the door he took a quick look about and immediately spotted one of Eadwulf’s men standing idly at the end of the hall, just as he suspected. He was not truly surprised, but still it struck close to his heart. Eadwulf did not trust his word, which meant that Eadwulf’s own word could not be trusted. He was up to something. The Earl could feel bad days ahead. His sons arrived within moments, but Sir Æthelred just greeted them, asked them to sit, and told them to be still while he thought. Both boys did as they were bid; knowing instinctively that something was seriously troubling their father.

“Leoforic,” the Earl began but his youngest interrupted. 

“Da! I was reading of submarines...Do ye know wot a submarine is Da?”

The Earl smiled and shook his head, indulging his youngest.

“Tis a boat. A boat that floats under the water, and has a long pole called a peeriscope, so that the captain can see where he is going, and it can hold a lot of men, over a hundred. Wouldn’t ye love to see a submarine, Father?”

Sir Æthelred could not help but smile at his boy’s enthusiasm. His mind was strong and so near to manhood, but he still had the body of a boy. Æthelred had visions his youngest son would do great things. Often the youngest born to royalty were both pampered and spoiled, with no clear goals or ambitions, or they turned deadly, with ambitions for titles and crowns. Leoforic would be neither, the Earl could tell. He would be something different.

“Leoforic,” he said seriously, motioning toward Æthelstan to pull his seat closer. “I’m going to ask ye to be a man...a man of the mind now.” He quickly had the complete attention of both his sons. “I’m going to ask ye some questions and think long and hard before ye answer them. It could be that me life, yor brother’s and yor own that hangs on these answers.”

Leoforic nodded solemnly “Wot is it Da?”

“Do ye trust these strangers?”

Leoforic had his answer in a split second, but pretended to think about it a bit longer. All the strangers treated him with nothing but kindness, true they could kill, but couldn’t any man. That they could kill well must be taken into account, but they could do many other things well also. What Leoforic felt when he was with them was a sense of goodwill and
belonging. He never felt threatened or afraid in any way. Two acts by the Americans stood out in his mind above all others. One was Sadao’s merciful beating of Sir Elid, even though all of the soldiers were clearly angry, and second was the vision of Major Thane and the Lady Ellyn, naked, arm in arm next to the wrecked barn by the river. Both exemplified what was good about these men. But his trust was not truly generated by anything any of Americans did, but rather what they allowed him to do, namely learn and work with the computer. Dr. Rice claimed that their computer’s memory stored all human knowledge up to their time, and Leoforic was finding that memory to be vast indeed. To Leoforic, the computer was like talking to God, and these men allowed him to read and study anything he wished.

“I trust them Da,” he answered confidently. “Have ye seen their compewters? Do ye know that they can tell ye near anything? They let me read it all. The scholarly monks at Canforth would allow me a book or two, most were forbidden unless I joined their order. These strangers demand nothing and allow everything. Yah, I trust them Father.”

Sir Æthelred smiled. “Nay I’ve na seen those...commpewters, but like ye, I have grown to trust these men,” he replied and chuckled, then grew serious. “Trust or na, our country is theirs for the takin’ if they want it. They destroyed the Danes the way ye can destroy an ant hill, flicked them away like they be bugs on the ground. Na fortress could hold them out, na army can stand against them, and yet here they sit, waiting for the King and makin’ friends with the likes of us’n.”

Leoforic said nothing and wondered about the strange mood his father was in, but he kept still and waited patiently on a stool at the foot of the bed. He watched silently as his father paced a bit before stopping in front of the lone window. The Earl gazed down past the south end of town and then beyond the walls to the tent city of the strangers...the Ammericaans, his son had called them.

“Eadwulf is up to something,” he finally said addressing them frankly. “Ye should be knowing now that I ‘ave never trusted the man, though he be an ally of the King. Eadwulf is strong and has ambitions for the crown. He’ll deny it but I know it to be true…as methinks the King knows. Up to now Alfred has been able to control him...but Sir Eadwulf will na be brought to heel forever. The man’s forbidden any messages to the King, and on this I have given me word.”

Æthelstan frowned, remembering the encounter. “Ye should
na have let him forbid da’.”

Æthelred smiled grimly. “Canna
be helped for now,” he explained and then continued. “He has also forbidden the Ealdorman or I to make any direct contact with Genaral Peebles or any of his men. In truth he has silenced us...why I’m na sure yet, but M’lord Eadwulf never does anything without a reason.”