The Temporal Knights (32 page)

Leoforic sat silent, truly stunned. Never before had his father talked to him of affairs of state. It made him feel proud, grown-up and a little scared.

“The Ammericaans will help us Father,” Leoforic blurted out and Sir Æthelred smiled.

“Forsooth, but in the mean time,” he said and went to his desk and quickly pulled out a sealed paper and handed it to Æthelstan. He stared proudly at his older son, who had grown into a tall, hard fighting man. “Eadwulf has forbidden messages to the King, but ye will take these to
yor mother, in Mercia. She will know wot to do. Leave in the morn, during the boar hunt, when most of Eadwulf’s men will be preoccupied.”

Æthelstan nodded, wanting to argue. He did not like the thought of leaving his father in the west with so much danger, with so much still unknown. But he also felt pride, pride for his father’s bravery, and pride that he was entrusted to such an important task. All the lower kingdoms depended on it, and he vowed silently not to let his father down. Of course Æthelstan never even considered that his father was sending him away for two reasons, one was to warn the King, however indirectly, and the other was to get him out of harm’s way. The Earl did not like having all of his heirs in danger at the same time. Leoforic would be staying. Leoforic would be his link to the stra...the Ammericaans.

“Wot will I do Da?”

“Well ye have a verily important task me son,” he replied with all seriousness. “Ye tell the...Ammericaans about this new development. Ye will be me personal messenger to Genaral Peebles and Dr. Rice.
Will be dangerous forsooth, so ye must take care.”

“I will Da,” Leoforic said with all seriousness. “I’ll be verily careful.”

§

Captain Tom Hersey was up just before sunrise, cleaning the scope to his rifle and day dreaming, though the day had hardly begun. He wore a wide grin on his face but was completely unaware of it. He was happy, happier than he’d been in a long while as he prepared for the coming hunt. He’d barely slept the night before after sauntering into his tent just before two in the morning, managing only about four hours, but it was a peaceful sleep, the sleep of children, the sleep of the dead. During the past five years of intense fighting, whether he was in the sack for four hours or eight, he never woke refreshed and eager to start a new day. Now he greeted each new sunrise with a smile and a soaring heart. He was positive he could function on but two hours, so peaceful was his slumber.

It didn’t hurt his optimism that he’d spent the previous night with Hester, a fresh faced twenty year old widow and mother of two. She was a refugee of Pilton. Her husband was killed six months prior, but not by the Danes. Rather he died when a large support beam fell on him while he was helping his neighbors erect a house. It pinned him to the ground and crushed his ribs. By the time his friends removed the beam the damage was done, his right lung was punctured. He was strong and managed to live another five painful days. Hester was by his side the entire time, but there was little she could do and he died coughing up blood all the same. She grieved for a full day but it was a hard time and her husband had left little behind in the way of support other than his two small sons and on old milk cow. Truth be told, Hester was just getting over his death, when the Danes attacked. She and the boys managed to flee, but she lost the milk cow and the wattle and daub hut she called home. She loved her late husband dearly, but to survive she had to move on quickly.

Hester had flaming red hair and dark freckles that covered her entire body, though Captain Hersey was not aware of that fact when they’d first met. It was her hair that caught his eye. He stared at her across the bonfire that first night after the arrival of the refugees, entranced.
At that time he’d never touched red hair before, but instead of acting shy, he’d surprised himself by walking right over to her to get a better look.  Hester, in turn, stared right back at him. To her, he was exotically strange looking, to her he was a Moor; a man from an unknown and far off southron land.  She found his looks to be strange, though somewhat pleasing.  His dark eyes captivated her and his smile lightened her heart.

“Hello Miss,” he said looking down at the young woman and smiling. Then his eyes moved to her boys who were hiding behind her skirts. Each of them sported the same red hair as their mother, though theirs for the most part was allowed to grow wild. Her oldest was four and named Lawson after his father, and his younger brother Dwennon was three. They stared at the tall, dark stranger before their mother with wonder.

“Good eve,” she said, head down, knowing that this was one of the strangers who’d allied themselves with the Ealdorman of Somerset; who could fly magically through the air and fight like demons. But since her arrival with the rest of the refugees, the strange men had treated them all very warmly. They even let her sons ride on one of their noisy, horseless carts. Both boys now spent much of their time talking about and imitating the large strangers.

“Are you afraid of me?” Hersey asked, wondering at her timid answer. But she lifted her head and a fire sprang into her eyes.

“Na,” she pronounced fiercely and Hersey flinched, recalling the temper red headed people were supposed to possess. He smiled.

“That’s good because I’m afraid of you,” he answered, and she frowned at him. Lawson giggled and both boys took a step out from behind their mother to get a better look at this tall imposing stranger who was afraid of their mother.

“Sir,” she said looking into his eyes and growing angry, though why she could not have said. “Ye na be afeared of me.”

“I am,” Hersey replied simply, honestly. “I want to touch your hair and I am afraid you’ll say no.”

Hester’s face exploded in scarlet; growing so red that Hersey was taken aback. Even still, he was very intrigued and very attracted to this unique looking woman. Never in his life had he caused such a reaction back on old Earth.

“Ye...ye be
wantin’ to touch me hair?” Hester asked disbelieving, but feeling her heart thumping in her chest.

Hersey nodded.

Hester paused a minute, then smiled. “Methinks that could be granted, if’n ye let me touch yor hands and face. Ye be a strange lookin’ man and I’ve never met the likes of ye a’fore.”

Hersey hesitated for only a moment and then reached out to stroke her hair. For the most part it was tied up and piled on her head, but with all the dancing a good deal of it had broken free of their pins as was hanging down, framing her face. Hersey took a loose strand between his fingers. Her hair was soft and smooth and he had to resist the urge to hold it to his nose and smell it. In turn she reached out and touched his arm, and face, and asked him to bend so she could touch his own curly, black hair.

“Feels like wool,” she announced and now her sons were out of hiding and demanding to feel the stranger’s hair for themselves. Hersey laughed, “Yes I need it cut badly,” he explained and then went to his knees so the boys could touch his hair and face.

“Mother,” Lawson said simply, “methinks he’s just one big freckle.”

Hersey laughed long and hard, sitting on the ground and playing with the two boys, while Hester watched, standing over them.

“I’m Tom, Tom Hersey,” he said looking up at her.

“Hester Manning,” she answered with a smile and introduced her boys. They all quickly became quite close, and last night Tom Hersey had slept with Hester for the first time, holding her freckled, warm body next to his.

“I said are you ready?” General Peebles asked, looking down at the Captain, who was looking back, but not seeing him.

Captain Hersey blinked. “Oh, yes Sir! I can hardly wait,” he answered sheepishly.

“Should be quite interesting,” Peebles replied with a nod. “We’re meeting at 0700 hours outside my tent...and Captain, we’re only bringing along a dozen men, please make sure at least eight are in full battle gear.”

“Yes Sir,” Hersey answered, and as Peebles was about to walk away he noticed that the smile, which was present as he walked up, returned once again to the Captain’s face.

“Are you all right Captain?”

“Oh, oh yes Sir. It’s just these people. They’ve welcomed us with such goodwill; I can’t help but feel happy that we’re here and safely away from the Skawps.”

“They’re treating you well?”

Hersey nodded. The people of this time had no real prejudice against him. To them he was a Moor, descended from a proud and dominate race from the south. He was no longer a descendent of slaves, the last of history’s slaves. After over two hundred and fifty years, the stigma of color was finally wearing thin in his old country, but it had taken the utter catastrophe of the Skawp invasion to truly make all men equal. Hersey was positive now that the attack would make such equality permanent. 

But these people had not experienced the vast suffering of Peebles and his men, but neither were they aware of the hundreds of years of forced slavery on the African people. To them he was a Moor, a powerful stranger, and they treated him as they would any of the Americans.

“Just fine commander, just fine,” and his smile returned. The General left, guessing the reason for his Captain’s sudden happiness...and distraction. Women...they were a blessing and a curse, and that was as true now as ever.

The boar hunt got underway just after 0730. General Peebles’ party consisted of twelve men. Going along were Colonel Lemay, Dr. Rice, Sergeant Sadao, Corporal Jefferies; also along were Captain Hersey and Corporal Hernandez, both trained snipers. They met the Ealdorman, Sir Eadwulf and a half dozen of Eadwulf’s knights at the stables where they were preparing their mounts for the day’s activities and it was only then that Peebles realized that he was in the unenviable position of being without transportation. He’d assumed that the hunt would be conducted on foot, and had made no preparations for anything otherwise. But the Ealdorman was ahead of him and had no less than twelve horses saddled for his men.

“This could be interesting,” the General commented, and though he was an accomplished rider, having grown up on a large ranch in Montana, he knew that many of his men were city boys.

“Want me to re-evaluate...find some riders from back home?” Lemay asked, but Peebles shook his head.

“They’ll be all right. I doubt any difficult riding will be needed. I hardly believe we intend to engage a wild boar from horseback.”

“Na, we ride in close and let the dogs take over,” the Ealdorman said listening in, as was Sir Eadric and several others. “Winter is best for boar, but me dogs can root them out of the brambles.”

And there were dogs about, dozens and dozens, most of the same breed; something the Ealdorman referred to as an Alaunt which was a short haired breed that looked somewhat like bulldog-mastiff mix. But there were other dogs, including a greyhound like dog called a Levrier, plus Lymers, which were huge powerful beasts that were kept on short thick leashes and led by peasants. Peebles had no doubt whatsoever that one of these could bring down a boar by itself. It was a pair of Levrier’s that Private Brooks killed on their first meeting with the Ealdorman, and some of the dogs still gave the strangers a good deal of distance, though most were friendly, playful and as eager as their masters to begin the hunt.

They began the trip with just under one hundred people, most were common folk, drum beaters, horn blowers and dog handlers, and they would walk to the hunt. It would take about an hour and a half to get to the wooded area where the boars were plentiful. Of course everyone knew that despite the preparation, the day’s hunting might be for naught; the boar, though vicious and very deadly, was by nature a cautious and shy beast. If they had any warning at all they would run to their burrows and then no matter how much noise the peasants created, the beasts would not come out. No, it was imperative that they caught the boars out in the open and drove them away from their dens. Only then could they hope to kill one, but of course, it was then that the boars were at their most dangerous.

The day was overcast, but the clouds were moving fast and thinning in spots and it was much warmer. Peebles hoped they’d give way and reveal their blue backdrop. He’d found after years of living inside a mountain he craved the sun, craved it every day. Once across the Exe the expedition headed southwest toward the village of Helmstan. They rode across open fields since there was no road, and along the way they scared up a number of pheasant, a few pigeons and some rabbits. The locals tried for the small game, but came away empty handed, except for one dog who happened to surprise a pheasant on the ground. And for the most part all they saw was small game, nothing larger, however the locals did point out some wolf sign, though thankfully they did not spy any of the elusive animals. General Peebles gave his men strict orders not to fire their weapons until the hunt was on. They reached the forest well before they reached the village, and the countryside they passed through was entirely devoid of people. Sir Eadwulf remained mute during the ride, and both the Earl and the Ealdorman conversed sparingly. The General was about to mention this but decided against it. He did, however, issue minute hand signals, warning of possible danger to Lemay and the rest of his men.

The green edge of the tree line did little to hint at the majesty of the deep woods, but once they crossed the outer boundaries, it was like entering into another world. The forest was old…very old, and the trees were enormous, their canopies all but blotting out the sky. It was like something out of a movie set. Towering oaks dominated the forest, some with limbs that nearly dipped to the earth. Some limbs were so big a man could easily walk along them without fear of losing his balance or falling. In most areas the undergrowth was very sparse, but there were open places where a mighty oak had fallen that new, young growth thrived. General Peebles was immediately reminded of a cathedral, and entering the wood was something of a religious experience for him and his men.