The Temporal Knights (42 page)

“Mayhap ye’ll tell us now of the gallant strangers to the west?” Ædwin asked many happy hours later and Ellyn immediately sobered. If Sir Gospatrick would have asked the very same question she would have undoubtedly become indignant and silent. But she’d grown to like Master Ædwin over the past few days, and knew that he was a serious fellow and not prone to teasing lightly. The question was not asked frivolously but out of true curiosity.

“Wot wold ye know?” she replied, not really wanting to blurt out her love for them, and of her broken heart.

“From whence they come to this land?”

Ellyn shook her head. “They say tis a far off land that lay across the ocean to the west...a land called Ammerica. There was a terrible war, and all were killed save these men who fled to Somerset.”

“Ammerica...” Sir Gospatrick said slowly, testing the word. “Tis an unknown land. But the letters from the Earl of Mercia speak of mighty deeds, saying these men be powerful fighters and swordsmen?”

“Yah, mighty fighters, but they carry na swords,” she answered and noticed Ædwin’s disappointed look and shivered. “They fight with strange, powerful weapons and have maacheens that do strange and wondrous things. You’d
na believe me if’n I told ye...but I flew with them, through the air like a bird, on a flying boat.”

Both men stared at her stunned. Gospatrick couldn’t believe his ears, while Master Ædwin just nodded as if the statement explained everything. Sir Gospatrick, his friend now for over ten years, had a nasty habit of being attracted to loons, and apparently this girl was no different.

“Ye say....” Gospatrick started but stopped when he saw Ellyn’s jaw line harden.

“Tis true M’lord,” Trudy spoke up, reading their expressions. “Twold na
have believed it meself if’n I hadn’t seen it with me own eyes. Powerful afeared was the whole grounds when the dragon boat flew overhead, and me vary mistress caught inside, waving and shouting like a madwoman. Many thought it an evil trick of the dragon, carrying the mistress over the town before eatin’ her, but if’n they’d have looked they could tell dat M’lady was verily happy. Wot dragon wold make its catch look happy?”

The two men still remained skeptical, but Ellyn just sighed and rolled her eyes at their stubbornness. Then, with a flash of insight, she realized that this was exactly what she would be facing at Winchester. Who would believe her, until they saw with their own eyes?

“Tis a hard thing I know, but flying is wondrous. Beyond anything except....” Ellyn stopped herself, and felt her face grow red.

“Yah, M’lady,” Sir Gospatrick said encouragingly, accurately guessing her train of thought. “Please go on.”

“Tis nothing. Ye’d na believe me anyhow,” she answered, her embarrassment changing to anger.

“Oh on that score I just might be so inclined,” he answered still amused. Master Ædwin, however, was not so amused. He watched Ellyn and her maid verily closely during the telling, and could see
na sign of deceit in either. 

‘Mayhap it
be as the letters to the Lady Ealhswith claim and these strangers could fly through the air. Did na seem possible, but the Earl of Mercia was na bumble headed fool, easily tricked or easy to trust.’
He leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking, knowing he would get nothing more from Ellyn this day and after a moment he even dozed, growing oblivious to the verbal sparring going on inside the carriage.

§

Farther to the west the weather was still quite gloomy. The storm had passed, but in its place were low level gray clouds, which brought light rain, and seemed to stretch to the very ends of the Earth. The Earl’s funeral was not held until late in the afternoon, three full days after the Countess’ arrival. The delay was necessary to allow her knights to ride in with her sister Æthelgifu. The men of Mercia were wet, tired and miserable, but happy to know that their Lady had survived the flight in the dragon boat. They could hardly believe it when she claimed to have arrived at the Ealdorman’s just before the storm hit, and many of her knights eyed the strangers with a mixture of fear and wonder. It was only after the men were housed and settled that Leoforic realized something was wrong.

“Mother, where’s Stan? Da’ sent him to ye with a message afore his death,” the boy asked as a wave of panic swept over his young body.

Æthelf
læ
d frowned, for her eldest son had not arrived in Tamworth.

“When?
When did he send him?” Giffu snapped. Her sister was already a mess and didn’t need a missing son to add to her woes.

“Five…
na six nights ago,” Leoforic replied, tears welling in his eyes. “Ma, where’s Stan?” He asked again.

Æthelf
læ
d’s knees grew weak and she reached out and placed a hand on the edge of the bed for support.

“Ye
be sure?” Giffu asked.

Leoforic nodded and started to cry. His aunt, though she was only five years older, went to comfort him. She smiled weakly and hugged him tight.

“Mayhap he went to the King instead,” Giffu suggested hopefully, but Leoforic just shook his head.

“Na…Sir Eadwulf forbid it, ‘nd Da gave his word,” he explained. “Mama, we need to find Stan…he could be hurt or in trouble.”

Æthelf
læ
d nodded and sat down on the bed, feeling faint. “Come Leoforic,” she said softly and he broke loose from Giffu and went to her. She hugged him fiercely for a moment then released him. “We must be strong. After the service I will send out Costance to search.”

“All right mother,” Leoforic agreed over a sour, churning stomach.

The service was a solemn affair. The ground was muddy, and the wind and drizzle were cold. Friar Padstone performed the rites since Father Gillian was away with the General. Because of the weather he made the service elegant, but brief. Most of the nobles were able to huddle under a large awning the Americans had erected over the burial site. It kept them relatively dry, if not warm. 

All through the service Lemay was anxious; Æthelstan’s disappearance nagged at him and he hoped it wasn’t a portent for the coming days. He assured the Countess that his men would aid in the search for her son.

But on a happier note, the General had arrived at Chisbury without incident, and they’d made radio contact on several occasions. His commander was safe, but still the feeling of danger persisted. Through the years of war with the Skawps the Colonel had grown to trust such feelings, and he almost sent the planes up despite the low ceiling and steady rain, but in the end refrained. The Bots were not suited for such weather. Even so, Lemay felt that it was important to show Sir Eadwulf just how far they could reach. The man was dangerous, of that the Colonel had no doubts. As of 0900 this morning the General was unsure whether they would be spending another day in Chisbury or moving on toward Reading. The decision would be entirely up to Sir Eadwulf.

The General reported that the rain was only falling lightly in Chisbury, so he was inclined to believe they would be moving on, but that was the last time the Colonel had heard from him. Lemay took the General’s silence to mean that they were now on the move, but of course he couldn’t be sure. He was positive however, that it was the uncertainty of the situation that was agitating him so. The Colonel frowned through the entire funeral and could hardly wait to reestablish contact with his superior and friend.

After the service, he sent several hummer squads out with the dozen or so Mercian knights that were hunting for Æthelstan, and silently wished once more for better weather. The Bots could scour the area much faster than men on the ground. For the Countess’ sake he hoped the boy’s horse was lame, but he suspected not. Æthelgifu and her escort traveled down the main road from Tamworth and had not come across him. It certainly didn’t look good.

Lemay went through the burial feast distant and distracted, though he did enjoy looking at the Countess and her younger sister. They were definitely a pair of beauties. Even in her grief, the Countess was poised and lovely and Lemay was surprised that she handled her loss so well. She sat at the far end of the table, between Murphy Giles and her son Leoforic and kept at least an outward appearance of interest in what was being said around her. The Colonel was only half paying attention when Matt explained to Sir Ceorl of Repton, a young knight who’d arrived with the Countess’ party, that their true leader was on his way to meet the King at Rochester with the Earl…

“He be meetin’ the King ye say?” Sir Ceorl interrupted with a raised eyebrow and a quick nervous laugh.

Matt nodded, not really understanding. “Yes,” Matt confirmed. Sir Ceorl now had Colonel Lemay’s full attention.

“I think na Mayjor,” the knight stated sadly, “the King is moving down to Christchurch; rumors tell the Boneless be harboring on Wight.”

Both Matt and Colonel Lemay were instantly on their feet, though there was little they could do at the moment.

“You’re sure about this?” Lemay asked a bit forcefully, but Sir Ceorl took no offense. These strangers were a bit like gods to him, confusing, terrifying and powerful. He was completely in awe of them. Sir Ceorl was a close boyhood friend of Harden, the Ealdorman’s eldest son, who’d filled him in on all the strange and wonderful abilities of the Americans. His belief came quite easily; after all, he’d witnessed the miracle of the flying boat only a few days ago.

“We
be sure,” the Countess confirmed. “We’ve word from the King na a week prior requesting…Æthelstan join him on the coast. We sent word, me husband should have informed ye.”

“Na Mum, Da sent Stan to
ye to tell the King of the Ammericaans,” Leoforic said as a feeling of dread washed over him once more. He needed to find his brother…to see his brother.

“He did na come,” the Lady Æthelf
læ
d replied softly and Colonel Lemay frowned.

“Mayhap he met Sir Uceltel in his travels and moved on down to Wessex,” the Countess said absently, clutching at the off chance, but even she knew it was unlikely. If her husband ordered her son not to go to the King…he would not.

Leoforic smiled weakly, hoping as well, though fear that his brother was already dead nearly engulfed him. He swallowed his terror and vaguely wished that his new friend Gordon Rice was with him.

Lemay remained quiet for a moment and made a mental note to send out more men to do a search of the area just north of town. The idea that messengers were going to the King however, left him a bit uneasy. The level of cooperation and communication among these people surprised him. He expected word of their arrival to spread, but not this quickly. He immediately realized how wise the General was to make sure diplomacy came first in all their early contacts with the locals. He gave the Countess a nod, truly admiring her strength during such a difficult time.

“So the King will not be in Rochester...and Sir Eadwulf knows this to be so?” Matt asked.

“Yah,” Sir Ceorl answered.
“Alfred’s on the southern coast and na going east. The Earl wold be sure to know this.”

“That lying, murdering traitor,” the Ealdorman spouted, his courage growing now that the Earl was no longer present. “Eadwulf be up to something. I be thinkin’ he has designs on yor General, and so on ye men,” the Ealdorman explained.

“Yah, tis an old ploy, kidnapping a loved one to force an allegiance,” the Lady Merwinna explained. She understood the Americans better than anyone at this point, except perhaps Leoforic, and realized their need for information about the ways of the Anglish. 

The Major and the Colonel shared a look, but it was not a look of fear. Instead it was a look of quiet determination. For those who witnessed the defeat of the Danes at Countisbury, it was a look none of them cared to have reserved for them.

“We have an hour before the arranged contact time,” Lemay said checking his watch. The hall was completely quite; the Americans thinking only of the danger to their leader.

“Perhaps we should start trying to make contact now,” Matt suggested.

“Agreed,” Lemay answered and then turned to the Countess. “Ma’am, my sincerest condolences on the death of your husband, but if we’re correct and Sir Eadwulf is behind his death, he will be avenged.”

“Twas Sir Eadwulf forsooth,” the Ealdorman sputtered finally coming to his feet. “He forbade us to contact the King...forbade us to even talk with ye. He attempted to conscript me seal, and the Earl’s. Methinks yor late husband sent Æthelstan to ye,” he began with a nod to the Countess, “with a message ultimately for the King…and Sir Eadwulf kilt him for that.”

The Lady Æthelf
læ
d gave a cry and Leoforic turned white. His father had indeed tried to contact the King through his older brother. The Ealdorman had just voiced Leoforic’s greatest fear, but now that it was out in the open he wanted his mother to hear the full truth.

“Yah,” he said softly. “Tis as the Ealdorman
says. Da’ sent Stan to ye Mum, and I was to be the messenger to the Ammericaans. If’n Stan is dead, Eadwulf’s the killer,” he added so low that only his mother and Matt heard him.

“We must hope he be with his uncle, Sir Uceltel then,” the Countess said fearfully, and no one tried to strengthen her hope.