The Temporal Knights (41 page)

“This can be quite frightening at first,” he said leaning over her, his chest very close to her face. Æthelf
læ
d colored slightly and couldn’t help but notice that the strange man smelled very good, almost like flowers to her, which she also considered unmanly. Men, being men, rarely smelled good, though even she had to admit there was something oddly attractive about a sweaty man. “But I assure you flying is quite safe,” Giles continued and reached for the safety harness. He eased it over her head, not wanting to muss her hair and began to snap her in. It wouldn’t do to have the Countess attempt to climb from her seat at an inopportune time. He pulled a strap around her waist and then clicked the shoulder straps in place completely oblivious to the extreme discomfort the woman before him was feeling. Leoforic had told her that this man was a stranger to her country so she said nothing and let him buckle her tightly into the chair. She was quite relieved however, when he finally finished, closed her door and quickly circled around the plane.

“Me son twill ride in the other?”
She asked when he opened the far door.

“There is only room for two,” Murphy said and jumped into the seat next to her. He smiled his boyish smile at her again. She smiled back and she found that she liked that he was always smiling. In her experience men tended to be too gruff and serious. She immediately changed her mind about his lack of facial hair, manly or not, she decided it was good to see his face. She glanced over at the far plane and caught sight of Leoforic. She smiled, thinking of her son’s smooth face. At the moment he was wearing a helmet, a bit different from the one the flying man was wearing, but he was watching out for her and waved. She waved back, though at the moment she felt sick, sad, and frightened to death.

‘Mayhap these beasts won’t fly,’
she thought hopefully, but somehow deep inside she knew they would. Many of her guards had watched them circle overhead though she was in her chambers and did not see for herself. Murphy held up a helmet but then looked at the Countess and then at her hair, which was smartly done and drawn up in a very intricate knot. She had enough hair that Murphy instantly realized that it was not going to fit in the helmet. In any case, it was going to ruin her look, but the Countess, who was following his train of thought, reacted quickly and immediately pulled two pins from her hair and it fell in long dark waves. Her hair was thick dark and shining. Murphy raised a hand, very tempted to touch it, but somehow he resisted, and when his gaze returned to the Lady next to him her mouth was smiling but her eyes were not.

“Insult me na,” she said a bit icily and Murphy gulped and nodded.

He held out the helmet, and only had to help her a bit in placing it over her head, then lowered the clear visor for her. If anything, she looked even more attractive with the helmet on, it accentuated her face somehow. Murphy then slipped on his own helmet and lowered his visor, effectively hiding his face from her.

She frowned.
‘Tis like a beard,’
she thought, a little disconcerted by the fact that now she could no longer see his eyes.

“Don’t worry I’m still here,” his voice boomed in her head, though she did not see his mouth move. He raised his TVD faceplate and smiled at her again. She smiled back fretfully, lips quivering from the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. Murphy gave a brief glimpse back toward the castle and spied the sister climbing back into the carriage. His attention then moved to the storm, but it was still a ways off so he quickly signaled to Gardner.

“Here we go,” he said softly and gunned the engine. She gasped so Giles reached out and patting the Countess’ hand. She was shocked at his forwardness, but also comforted and strangely thankful, especially once she saw that Leoforic’s plane was beginning to roll forward all on its own, as if by magic. She gasped again, and then with a roar from the engine, they began to follow. Faster and faster they went, and she watched it all with a mixture of awe, fear, and fascination, now holding her breath as the contraption carrying her son actually took to the air. Still they went faster until the Countess could stand it no more and she reached out and put a hand on Murphy’s forearm. He glanced down briefly to look at her hand and so did she, but she did not remove it. Murphy looked into her eyes and smiled reassuringly, then pulled gently back on the stick, and before she could react they were airborne. Once flying however, Murphy turned his entire attention away from the Countess and concentrated on operating the airplane. He wanted no accidents at this juncture...as if he ever wanted an accident. To her credit, the Countess beside him did not scream or faint, even though she was more terrified than she had ever been in her life, even more so than on her wedding night, far from home, in a strange land, in bed with a strange Anglish nobleman.

“Woooooooooeeeeeeeeeeee!” they both heard Leoforic yell. Murphy smiled, but the Countess did not, since she did not recognize it as either her son, or as a sound of happiness.

They flew higher and higher still, before Murphy noticed that her nails were digging into his arm causing him considerable pain.

“Aathellflaad,” he said butchering her name, but it was near enough that she understood, “relax your grip or you’ll hit bone,” he said.

The Countess took her eyes from the ground only briefly to look at him, then down at her hand, and she loosened her fingers. There were four spots of blood on his forearm where her nails had bit and she was horrified that she’d hurt him so. She pulled her hand away but immediately put it back as they banked slightly and flew over her knights and personal carriage.

Murphy smiled as he caught sight of the sister…Aathellgiifu, her head sticking out of the carriage window as she stared up at the planes. He immediately wished their altitude was higher as several horses in her entourage scattered in fright, but seconds later they zipped past.

The Countess also saw the horses scatter but most of her attention was on her son Leoforic who was leaning out and waving down at the carriage.

“Oh Leoforic, do
na lean out so,” she scolded absently, truly frightened and worried for his safety.

“Yah Mum,” he answered to her surprise and pulled his head back in the plane. She frowned, surprised.

“Leoforic?” she whispered tentatively.

“Yah Mum...isn’t flying grand.”

“Ye can hear me?”

“Yah Mum.”

“We have communication devices that allow us to talk over great distances,” Murphy explained and she glanced over at him now truly frightened. “You could talk to the Ealdorman now if you wished...if he’s available.”

“He’s not about,” a voice informed them but the Countess did not know whose it belonged to. 

“Tis remarkable,” she said, hardly believing the man. It was not possible to talk to the Ealdorman from this distance…it just wasn’t. She remained silent for the rest of the trip, all but ignoring the voices talking close to her ear. She watched as the ground moved quickly by. Never had she gone this fast. The ground was a blur beneath them, but every now and then she caught sight of a peasant or a shack or barn below. And it was only after about twenty minutes that she forgot her fear and was able to truly loosen her grip on Murphy’s arm and after a moment she even took her hand away. Finally she began to enjoy the flight, especially when off to the right, she spotted a large goose flying very fast in the same direction but just below the plane. She laughed out loud in delight, and pointed the bird out to Murphy with a very engaging smile.

He smiled back. “I love flying,” he said simply, understanding exactly what she was feeling. To her surprise, the Countess agreed.

A few minutes later she was equally surprised to find that they were over Athelney. It could hardly be possible. They’d just left Tamworth and her home. It would be a three day trip for Æthelgifu by carriage, yet they were here.

Murphy followed Gardner as they flew on by and circled back into the wind, and it was only then that they noticed the squall was very close and moving their direction quite rapidly. They landed on the first pass and rolled to a stop next to each other. Leoforic was out of his seat in a split second and running to his mother.

“Twas it na grand?” he asked excitedly as Murphy cut the engine.

“Tis truly,” she answered as she allowed Murphy to unbuckle her. This time she welcomed his closeness as he helped her up and then down onto the ground. She looked into his eyes a long moment before they turned to greet the teams of people coming their way.

The Ealdorman and Lady Merwinna were rushing to welcome her, and seemed not the least bit surprised by either her early arrival or the flying beasts. Alongside the pair walked a host of enormous men, all clean shaven like her pilot and new friend. Within the span of an hour or so she’d become a great fan of the smooth clean faces on these men and found most of them to be very, very attractive. She chided herself silently, for she had grown to love her husband so recently deceased, still she was a woman, and these were men.

“Come,” the Ealdorman said gently holding out his arm in greeting and indicating that they should hurry for the hall. “We’re in for a blow.”

The Countess moved to go, then paused and turned back to Murphy. “I’ll see to the planes,” he told her, but that was not her worry. She was wondering if he was to join them, but she quickly regained her senses and moved off without uttering a word.

Chapter Eleven

B
y the time the squall hit the general’s party, thirty-three miles to the east, the last of the hummers had just crossed over the rickety wooden bridge at Kingston, which spanned a major tributary the locals called the Bane. Peebles was smiling despite the downpour, which was dumping an enormous amount of cold rain in the area, making the road a muddy mess. But of course, he was inside a hummer where it was dry and warm. Father Gillian happily accepted the invitation to join them just as the rain was beginning, and squeezed between the General and Dr. Rice. The Father was chatting away about any and all subjects, very thankful to be out of the elements. Peebles was not listening at the moment, instead he was thinking about Sir Eadwulf, who woke late this morning and delayed the start of the day by nearly two hours. Word was that the Earl was feeling poorly. The General was naturally sympathetic and when it became clear that they were in for a shower he initially invited the Earl to join them inside the hummer, but Sir Eadwulf coldly declined. It was obvious that the man was fighting not only a hangover, which must be a doozy, but also with his fear and superstition. So the Father joined them in the Earl’s stead, his horse now being led by one of the Earl’s men. Sir Oldalf, whose fear of the magic wagons was completely gone, readily climbed into the other vehicle. The rain came down in buckets and the General had to stifle a grin as he spied the soaked Earl leading his men through the torrent.

“You’d think he’d stop and find shelter,” Rice said drawing the General out of his thoughts.

“He’s a stubborn man,” Captain Hersey commented. Thus far, the Captain was not impressed by the Earl of Kent.

“Tis just so,” Gillian agreed.

“How much farther do you figure it is to Chisbury?” Peebles asked the Father.

“About twenty or so miles,” Hersey said simply.

Father Gillian shrugged not knowing just what a mile was, but he reckoned it would take at least another three hours or so to reach their destination and said so.

“Any place to stop between here and there?”

“Na, mayhap Sutton, but that be off the road to the north, or mayhap Bratton.”

“I wonder if he’ll stop,” Peebles mused. No one answered and soon they were talking of other things.

As it turned out, the Earl did not stop and they reached Chisbury just before sunset as the dark and gloomy day turned into a dark and gloomy night. They stopped at an inn at the very edge of town and the Earl did not even speak to the General before moving inside. He tromped heavily up the wooden steps, obviously in a foul mood and left his horse to be tended to by his underlings. Sir Eadric went with him but no one invited either the General or his men inside, so they found some high ground about a quarter of a mile south of the town and quickly erected their tents. It was still raining and everyone helped, but even so they were all soaked to the bone by the time they finished, but once inside, they changed into dry clothes and even found a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt in the Father’s size. Sir Oldalf, who was a large barrel of a man, was much harder to fit, so in the end they settled on a pair of nylon running pants and an oversized sweatshirt.

“You need to head to Wal-Mart my man,” Rice commented once Oldalf was dressed. Hersey laughed but the knight just looked quizzically at the doctor for a moment before returning his attention to his pants. They were warm but the nylon felt very odd to the touch as he ran his hands quickly up and down each leg.

“Verily fine trousers,” Sir Oldalf said with a smile.

They ate a quick meal fixed on a portable stove and drank hot coffee before climbing into their cots to sleep. But before he retired, Peebles set the night watch, two men on at all times, and he even volunteered for the 0400 to 0600 shift, which he would share with Corporal Chuen. It continued to rain off and on but thankfully the night passed uneventfully.

The next morning it was still raining hard and Sir Eadwulf sent word that their travel day was canceled. Peebles and his men kept to the tents most of the morning but around noontime the rain began to slacken and the sky brightened perceptibly, even though it was still overcast.

“General,” Dr. Rice said unable to hold back his curiosity any longer. “I would really like to go and visit the town. This is the first place we’ve visited with a sizable population and I’d like to see how the people live...what they do.”

Peebles took a deep breath, also curious, but he silently weighed the risks of splitting the group since they obviously couldn’t all go at once and leave the hummers unguarded. He wasn’t really worried about a local coming across the vehicles and by some miracle starting them up; instead he was worried more of petty vandalism or perhaps an accident with one of the weapons.

“We’ll go in groups of five, our hummer first. Two hour trip, and then we’ll return and let the other group explore,” he finally decided. “Perhaps Father Gillian and Sir Oldalf could guide the groups and explain some of the finer points of metropolitan lifestyle.”

Father Gillian bowed slightly. “Yah, I have visited Chisbury on several occasions though I must admit I spent much of me time down south at the church and monastery.”

“Oh, that would be an interesting visit too,” Rice said, clearly excited now that the decision was made to go and he hurried everyone along until they were prepared to meet the people of Chisbury.

On Peebles command, every man wore a sidearm and both Sergeant Sadao and Captain Hersey wore small headsets, which allowed them to communicate between groups. As they were heading out Corporal Jefferies was busy setting up a temporary radio tower on the roof of one of the hummers that would allow them to boost their signal and communicate with Colonel Lemay. Without assistance, the transmitters in the helmets, only had an effective range of about thirty miles over flat even ground.

“We’ll be back in two hours,” Peebles said checking his watch.

“All right then, lead the way,” he told Rice, and they were off.

The town of Chisbury was larger than most of the hamlets they’d moved through in their recent travels though it appeared to be a bit smaller than Kingston. Even so it was still woefully small by modern standards. Uniquely, the town was located at the intersection of three main roads that weaved their way through lower England. Two were ancient tracks and one was built by the Romans, which ran along the southern end of town. Because of the odd intersection, the town had a sporadic feel to it with no real center. But most of the activity seemed to be taking place around a dozen or so buildings built off one of the ancient dirt tracks. The largest building in town was the Drunken Dog Inn, which contained both a tavern and a general store on its lower level. Father Gillian led them on a roundabout tour of the town, visiting every shop or building which was open, they even entered several private dwellings before they realized their mistake. But not one of the villagers complained, and took the intrusions in stride. 

Most of the buildings were small, single story affairs, built of wattle and daub or a mixture of clay, mixed straw and cow dung, though a few were larger and built of wood. Wherever they went the floor was beaten earth and covered with dried rushes. They talked with everyone, especially Doctor Rice, who conversed with absolutely everyone he came across. He insisted that the Father take them to visit all the professionals or skilled craftsman of the day, including the weaver, who patiently showed them how to operate an intricate loom that dominated the interior of his home and workshop. They also visited the tanner, the blacksmith and the shoemaker, a very large, happy man who inspected their boots with awe and took a great liking to the General. Finally they visited the mill, which was located on the eastern end town and built on the banks of a large fast moving creek. A large water wheel powered the grindstone, which crushed the local grain into fine brown flour. Of all of the townspeople, only the miller showed any impatience with their group. He was short and for the most part rude, and did not tolerate their presence for long.

“Tis a miller’s right to be so foul,” Father Gillian explained as they made their way back through town, waving at a few of their new friends as they went.

“Why is that?” Peebles asked clearly interested. He’d enjoyed these last few hours immensely, and was very curious about the people who lived in this time and their lifestyles.

“The miller tis verily important, and holds the landowners and cottars in his fists by order of the Lord of these lands. The miller
be the only man by law who can grind his Lord’s grain. Tis a mighty lot of power for one man and few can handle its weight with class and dignity.”

“Cottars?”

“They be the poor, beholden to the landowners and the like.”

They walked through the muddy streets and finally made their way back to the tent encampment where Sergeant Moore and his group were anxiously awaiting for their turn.

“Towers finished. I’ve contacted Colonel Lemay and reported in. All’s quiet on his front,” Moore said. “He’d like you to call. Nothing urgent, just wants to check in.”

“All right, you go and have some fun, but Sergeant, keep the group together and keep alert.”

“Yes Sir,” he answered and they were off, Sir Oldalf guiding them.

§

The Lady Ellyn was twenty miles to the southeast of Shaftesbury and finally moving rapidly toward Winchester. She sat next to Trudy in the back of the carriage, looking across at Sir Gospatrick, who insisted on joining them during the recent downpour and had yet to remove himself. Next to him was his stoic friend, Master Ædwin.

They were pushing on to Wilton and would be in Winchester on the following day if the weather held. They’d lost nearly an entire day in the small town of Barnsley due to the weather, but mercifully Lady Ellyn and Trudy were taken in by a nearby Convent, while the men were forced to take rooms in town. Coincidently, Ellyn became very pious in a desperate attempt to escape Sir Gospatrick’s relentless advances. He was making her angry and confused. On one hand, she was enjoying his attention immensely; he made her feel desirable, which was never a
bad thing, but it also made her feel guilty. This inharmonious emotional concoction raised her ire, and she took her confusion out on them both, but that did not drive Gospatrick from the carriage. The man was intelligent and funny and made Ellyn laugh on numerous occasions but she was in love with Matt and so tried to ignore Gospatrick as best she could. Thankfully even he ran out of witty things to say after a time, so now sat quietly across from her. Talking or not though, he watched her closely and smiled every time he caught her eye. She tried not to look at him, which was near impossible since he was sitting directly across from her. Finally she sighed.

“Do we have a place arranged to stay in Wilton?” she asked Master Ædwin, pointedly looking directly into his face so as to avoid the stare of her pursuer.

“Yah, M’lady. We’ll be staying at the Flying Harpy. Tis warm enough though not so nice as the Black Boar.”

“Mayhap ye will dine with us tonight,” Sir Gospatrick piped in. “Master Alcott, the cook of the Harpy, makes an extraordinary fish pudding.”

Ellyn was quiet for moment, thinking fast, but she could find no good reason to decline so she finally nodded to Sir Gospatrick. “That wold be quite pleasant, Sir.”

“Please call me....” he started but paused as a gust of wind buffeted the carriage, which rocked under the force of the onslaught. The curtains, which were tied down to keep out the rain, broke loose and whipped about the interior. Both Ædwin and Trudy fumbled to control them but the wind was now howling down from the northern hillsides. Finally Ædwin managed to rein in the wet curtain on his side, but before Trudy gained control the soaked fabric whipped out and cracked against the Lady Ellyn’s cheek, like a twisted bathroom towel. Ellyn’s head snapped back from the force of the blow and slammed against the hard wooden seat behind her. Without a sound she slumped to the floor. Rain continued to pour in through the open window, covering Ellyn’s face with tiny droplets, but dazed as she was she did not know or care. 

“Mum!” Trudy yelled with alarm and abandoned her attempts to control the curtains, leaving the job to the two gentlemen travelers. “Mum,” Trudy repeated as Ellyn came around, stunned but otherwise unharmed. Sir Gospatrick finally managed to corral the unruly curtains back onto their ties.

“Heavens, but ye’ve been dealt quite a blow,” Gospatrick said as he helped her back into her seat. Her left cheek was an angry red where the wet cloth had snapped against it. It still stung terribly and her eyes were glistening from the pain.

Sir Gospatrick looked at her face, then over to his friend Ædwin, who couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s plight. “No offense M’lady, but it looks as if ye have been delivered a mighty slap. Tis many times I’ve seen Sir Gospatrick’s face struck red in the presence of a Lady, but never the other way about…methinks God may have made some mistake.”

Both Ellyn and Trudy were shocked at the notion that God could make a mistake, but soon realized that the normally serious gentleman was making a jest at his friend’s expense. But Sir Gospatrick took it in stride and even Ellyn had to laugh at her predicament. Painful though it was, the incident loosened the mood of the travelers considerably, and soon they were talking on all manner of subjects.