The Temporal Knights (38 page)

Rice closed the door after making sure they were not followed. “You need not worry,” he said just above a whisper. “We know you did not kill the Earl.”

“But Sir Eadwulf....”

“Yes they found the knife buried in the Earl’s chest, and Eadwulf made it clear that you and the Earl had argued the night before...”

“Yah, he did na wish me to leave...but Ellyn, she could na stay.”

“The scene of the crime was doctored, and it was very convenient that your knife just happened to be left in the dead man’s chest,” Rice explained. “We know you were set up.”

“Yah, tis a way to rid yorself of deadly rivals forsooth, but the King, he may na believe ye,” Oldalf said gloomily.

“Nothing will happen to you while we’re around,” Rice said like a guarantee.

“Then ye best be around me at all times,” the knight answered grimly. With that he stood and found his Marshal and told him to prepare his horse for Rochester.

They left an hour later with Sir Eadwulf and his men all riding fresh horses. They headed northeast toward Langport, where they crossed the Avon River by a sturdy stone bridge which Rice suspected was built by the Romans during their occupation. He would have loved to spend some time inspecting its design, but that was not to be.
Past the bridge it was easy going across open fields. The only trees in sight were clumped together around small creeks and streams, and Sir Oldalf advised that such places should be avoided since many of the groves were havens for highwaymen and brigands.

They reached Langport without incident however, and the Americans studied the village with some reservation. It was not much to look at. There were only eight buildings total and three of these were of the barn or shed variety. There were four houses, barely more than hovels, and an inn of sorts, though once inside it was obvious it was more a tavern than inn.

Peebles ordered his men to set up the tents, and then he, Dr. Rice, Father Gillian and Sir Oldalf followed Sir Eadwulf into the inn. Inside, the main room was small and dirty, but it was the stench that the Americans noticed first and foremost. It was unbearable, much worse than anything they’d experienced up to this point. In the last few weeks their toleration for human odor had increased dramatically, but it did little to prepare them for the inn. It was dark inside and it took a moment for everyone’s eyes to adjust. There were four men inside, one behind a rickety bar and three huddled around a table. There was also one short, round woman of some indiscriminate age. The locals all studied the newcomers with a bit of nervousness.

“How canna ‘elp ye?” the man behind the bar asked anxiously. He did not like having such well-armed men in his establishment.

“I be Sir Eadwulf, Earl of Kent, and these be me guests.”

The peasants all bowed low, clearly less than pleased. “Well come, me Lord,” the man said simply.
“Names Jann Barber. Wot canna do ye for?”

“Food, drink and a room for the night,” Eadwulf replied imperiously, obviously not affected by the smell, or the dim surroundings. Sir Eadric led the way and they all sat around the one free table in the room. Peebles was very careful not to touch anything, but neither Father Gillian nor Sir Oldalf seemed to have such compulsions. Both men were soon enjoying
a thick mead out of filthy wooden cups the General wouldn’t have wished on his worst enemy. He left his untouched. Rice, despite the smell, was fascinated and moved over to have a word with the locals, though even he found he could only approach so close. The three men were friendly enough, and smiled at him with mostly toothless smiles. Their hair was long and stringy, and obviously hadn’t been washed...ever. Even in the dim light, the doctor could spot body lice crawling over the men. Most of the locals had lice to some degree, because of the general fear that bathing would lead to the plague, but these three were supporting thousands of the little beasts. Rice was about to say something when the woman, who was eyeing the Doctor closely, approached with single minded determination.

“Hallo MeLord,” she greeted, smiling at him with rotten teeth. She would like to bed one of these dandies. Never had she seen any man...or in fact any woman, groomed so smartly. They must be very important indeed. “Mayhap ye be
needin’ some servicin’,” she added and reached out and put her hand on the doctor’s crotch.

It took all of the Rice’s will power not to jump away; instead he shook his head ever so slightly.

“No thank you ma’am,” he replied politely, bile rising in his throat as his stomach convulsed. “If you’ll excuse me,” he added then turned and without rushing, left the inn. General Peebles was not far behind him and both gulped for fresh air like drowning men. A roar of laughter followed them. Sir Eadwulf’s the loudest of all. It carried easily through the small gaps and holes in the poorly constructed building.

“At least he has a sense of humor,” Rice said.

“My God,” Peebles finally mustered, “humans are the foulest smelling creatures on earth.”

Rice nodded his agreement as Newton approached.

“Colonel Lemay reports that he has a bit of a surprise for us,” he said wrinkling his nose at the smell coming from the inn.

“Surprise?” the General asked, for he was not one who liked surprises of any kind. But before Newton could answer they all heard the soft droning of a Bot and moments later it flew over them. The small plane was flying low. Murphy Giles stuck his head out the window and waved down to them. He flew on past and was circling back for another pass as the tavern emptied out. All the people of Langport sank to their knees, some of them praying, some just wailing, as the General slipped his IWS helmet back on.

“Greetings General and friends,” Giles said over the GBF, “the Colonel thought it best if we let Sir Eadwulf know you are still well within our reach. I’ll make one more pass then I’m off...only about a ten-minute flight, if that. I’ll check on you again tomorrow night at Kingston.”

“Right,” the General said smiling. “And tell the Colonel that it was a fine idea, though Eadwulf has shown no hostility toward us. He’s certainly not warm, and he hardly talked at all during the trip, but he’s not overly hostile either.”

“Roger...out.”

They all watched the plane circle one last time and then head off toward the west. It was quickly out of sight, and in less than a minute they could no longer even hear it. Sir Eadwulf moved smartly over to the General once he’d removed his helmet. Peebles could tell the Earl was clearly concerned, which was the desired effect.

“And why is yor flying beast visitin’ us in Langport,” he asked, trying to be nonchalant.

“Just keeping an eye on us,” the General replied, an idea suddenly coming to him. “Would you like to come to my tent for a nightcap?” he asked on impulse.

“Nightcap?”

“A drink my man...I’ll introduce you to one Jack Daniels.”

The Earl of Kent nodded, though suddenly very wary. This could be a ploy to trap and kill him, and he decided then and there that caution was the better part of valor.

“Sir Eadric is partial to drink,” he added carefully, wondering just who this Jack fellow was. As far as he knew there was no Jack among the American’s party.

“Bring him along,” Peebles said giving Eadwulf a sly look that the Earl did not much care for. It was as if the man could see right through him, and read his very thoughts. But he motioned to Sir Eadric and the two followed the General and Doctor Rice into one of the tents. This was the first time Eadwulf had been close to the shelters of the strangers. He felt the walls, which were made of extremely heavy fabric, and he decided that they would hold up well even in the foulest weather. He was curious however, about how they remained waterproof, since he felt no oil at all. But he kept his questions to himself, not wanting to look weak to his potential enemies. 

The General pulled two canvas chairs from a corner, unfolded them, and then motioned for the two men to sit. They each studied the chairs with a good degree of doubt, neither believing that such frail things could hold their weight, but when Rice sat in a similar chair they each made the attempt, although gingerly. To their surprise the chairs held up, and were quite comfortable and after only a few short seconds both men began to relax. Peebles handed each of them a glass filled with only a bare amount of some brown liquid.

‘Poison,’
Eadwulf instantly thought, realizing that the General must be on to their game. Peebles noticed the hesitation, so he raised his own glass of similar liquid and sipped it carefully.

“It’s sipping whiskey,” he explained. “But be careful, it has a bite.”

At first they both froze, unwilling to drink, but as Rice and Peebles continued to sip, curiosity got the better of Sir Eadric, who finally sniffed at his glass and quickly pulled his face away. As Eadwulf had said, he was fond of drink. Sir Eadric could tell instantly that this was strong drink indeed. He took a sip and the liquid burned down his throat. The thought of poison also entered his mind, but then the whiskey settled in his stomach nice and warm. He took another sip. Sir Eadwulf watched all of this very closely then finally dared to sip from his own glass. His throat was suddenly on fire and he coughed and sputtered much to the amusement of the Americans. Sir Eadric was equally amused, but he was very careful to hide it. It was not healthy to laugh at the Earl’s expense.

“It takes some getting used to, but it’s a talent worth having,” the General explained and downed the rest of his drink, then quickly refilled it from a large clear bottle. Sir Eadric followed suit and held out his glass for more. Peebles happily filled his glass. By this time, Eadwulf had taken several careful sips and was actually beginning to enjoy the feeling coming from his toes. When his glass was empty he took the bottle on his own and studied the workmanship.

“Tis excellent glass work,” he said running his fingers along the intricate designs before pouring himself a generous amount. “This...whiskey be terrible, but good,” he added with a smile and another sip.

This was the first time Peebles ever remembered seeing a genuine smile on the Earl’s face.

“But who is this Jack fellow ye be wantin’ me to meet?”

Rice laughed loudly, causing Sir Eadric to start and make a grab for his sword, but the General only smiled. “This is the fellow,” he said taking back the bottle and turning it around to show the label to Eadwulf.
“Jack Daniels, pure Tennessee Bourbon Whiskey. This right here is the fellow I’m introducing you to.”

“He’s a fine fellow,” Eadric offered and relaxed immediately. He held out his glass for another refill. Sir Eadwulf quickly finished off his own and again held out his glass. Peebles filled them both and had another himself. Neither man noticed that Rice was still nursing his first.

It took them only about a half an hour to polish off the rest of the bottle, with the majority of it going to Sir Eadwulf and his knight. By this time they were both roaring drunk and Peebles was feeling quite pleasant.

“So tell me,” Rice asked faking a sway and a giggle. “Just what kind of man is this King of yours...Alfred I
mean.”

“Well...he
be a fine King,” Sir Eadwulf started, only slurring his words a little. “Fine for the women and the weak. Methinks though his armies be strong, his constitution be a bit on the squeamish side. He’ll na be driving out the Danes without me help to be sure,” he added truly meaning it, and suddenly he found he liked these strangers very much. They were strong fighting men, and he was sure that they would understand his motives and desires completely.

“Yah, twill take a strong King to finally rid the land of those northern barbarians,” Eadric agreed. “Without Sir Eadwulf, Alfred has na teeth,” he added proudly.

“Tis right!” Eadwulf shouted his agreement, struggling to stand. He waved his empty glass before him as he talked. “Me armies be strong also. I’ve wiped the scum from Kent and the whole of the eastern shores, while our good King dallies in Wessex and Mercia, and making deals with the sons of Ragnar. Pah! As long as he dealin’, the Danes will continue to go a’viking.”

“Will you be helping him out in the west?” Peebles asked leaning forward and watching the drunken Lord before him carefully.

“Na, Alfred’s too smart for that. He’d na allow me armies into Wessex or too far north,” Eadwulf answered suddenly very serious. “He fears me claim on the throne too much.”

“Yor rightful claim,” Eadric crowed, suddenly indignant. “M’lord’s great grandfather but died before he could pass on the crown to his rightful heir...but the people are flocking to the strength they see in M’lord, forsooth.”

“Can we check that?” Peebles asked Rice softly, who nodded then shrugged.

“Yah, tis Alfred’s own line that
controls the throne for now,” Eadwulf said sobering. “An’ he will na let ye into the east either, once’t he learns of yor great strength. He will fear ye as he fears me. Tis a weak King,” he added slurring his words badly now.

“The histories speak very respectfully of him,” Rice ventured.

“Histories...pah! Alfred spends much of his time on his precious histories, mayhap that be why they pamper him so,” Eadwulf spit, not even realizing what the men before him were saying or how they would even know why the histories spoke kindly about the King. He was riled now and did not even notice that his knight was slumped over sleeping in the chair next to him. He continued to move about the room, talking and talking making both Peebles and Rice painfully aware that though alcohol was great at loosening a tongue, once loosened the drunken tongue had a tendency to stay that way, and sometimes for a very long time.