The Temporal Knights (43 page)

“Let’s go,” Lemay said with a grimace, hoping the Countess was correct. He didn’t want another death on their account.

But try as they might, they received no communications from the General and the search party for the boy came up empty.

§

That very morning, with the rain finally behind them, Sir Eadwulf announced that they would leave for Reading within the hour. The hummers were gassed and ready and had been for a full day. Surprisingly, a number of the town’s citizens came to see them off, lining both sides of the narrow main road. Peebles and Rice waved to the many spectators as they drove slowly through the town. The road was mud, plain and simple, thick and slippery, but the hummers were up to the task and made headway with ease. It was a strange thought, but the General realized that he missed asphalt and cement. As unnatural and drab as these two substances could be, people tended to forget that what they replaced was dirt and mud; all in all, an excellent trade off in the General’s mind.  

Approximately three miles north of Chisbury however, the General and his men received a nice surprise when they came upon a smooth flat road built entirely of stone.

“This is outstanding,” Rice said and coaxed the General to stop so he could get out and study the workmanship. “Undoubtedly built by the Romans, but it’s still in great shape.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Hersey asked.

“Well it’s probably at least four hundred years old,” Rice replied and tried to take a sample of the mortar that held the stones in place.

Hersey shrugged. “Not many cement trucks passing over it though...something like this would hold up really well with just horses, people and a few carts crossing it.”

“Well it has,” Peebles agreed impatiently then ordered his doctor back into the vehicle. Sir Eadwulf had not stopped and was now out of sight over the nearest hill, but once on the move the hummers caught up quickly.

“There be many such roads throughout the southern lands,” Sir Eadric said as the hummer drew alongside, surprising Rice.

“Does this one go all the way to Rochester?” The doctor asked. 

“Na, it stops just west of Lundenwic, but thee roads be good and solid all the way to the Medway River Bridge.”

The road was a godsend for both animal and vehicle alike and they made very good time. It led to the south and east through the small hamlets of Sashes and Southwark on its way to London, or Lundenwic as the locals called the famous city. The lands east of Chisbury were much more populated than were those farther to the west, and many people, both in the villages and in the fields, stopped their work to watch the noisy caravan pass by. Some ran away, clearly frightened, but others just stared in wonder, mouths hanging open. It was apparent that Sir Eadwulf took great delight in the local people’s reaction to the strangers and their loud, magical wagons.

Though the morning remained overcast, the rain held off and they reached Reading just after mid-day. Sir Eadwulf declared they would stop, eat and rest the horses. Reading was a large village but not nearly as big as Chisbury. Still, there were a number of shops and several taverns and a host of pedestrians milling about. They drove slowly through town and were at least a quarter of a mile beyond before they came across a stone, whitewashed building with a broad wraparound porch. There was an open field directly out front large enough to support all the horses and the hummers. 

“Tis the Arrow’s song,” Sir Eadwulf explained with a hearty smile and released his knights, obviously in very good spirits now that the rain had stopped. “It be famous all across lower Angland for thee lamb and rabbit stew. Ye all must try it,” he insisted and tied off his mount. The Earl and Eadric moved quickly inside, but then reappeared almost immediately. “Tis news, our good King Alfred passed through just yesterday. He
be waitin’ for us at Rochester and tis eager to meet with ye,” Eadwulf claimed. “Come Genaral, yor men must be trying the stew,” he added and then the two moved back into the famous tavern.

Peebles glanced at Rice, who shrugged. “I’m hungry,” the doctor said, “and he seems to be warming to us. We’ll need the Earl if the King is to trust us.” Peebles paused a moment to consider the risks and then turned to Sadao.

“Secure the weapons and lock the vehicles,” he finally said. “As long as they’re right out front I don’t think the locals will bother them, they seem to be too superstitious.”

The Sergeant nodded and quickly locked down the weapons and then Peebles and his group climbed the stairs to the porch and moved inside.

The tavern was a large one story stone structure, with four big windows on the front facing. All the shutters were all flung open to let in daylight and the afternoon air. Inside, the place was crowded and rowdy, and while the majority of the place was bright, the corners and places along the north wall were hidden in shadow. No one paid the newcomers any mind as they entered, but Sir Eadwulf soon commandeered a large table near one of the windows. Sir Eadwulf, whose behavior had improved along with the weather, took great pleasure in leading the giant Americans about. He was highly amused by the fear and suspicion the local peasants showed the large and strangely dressed men.

The tavern smelled of dried sweat and ale, but the food was surprisingly good, and the drink was plentiful. The Americans ate and drank with gusto, interacting comfortably with the locals, at least after they’d warmed a bit to their presence. General Peebles and all of his men were thoroughly enjoying the trip through the heart of ancient England, and took extra time to talk to any new person they met along the way. They were glad to converse with the rich or the poor alike and listened attentively to everyone’s opinion. Every person they met was a piece of history to the Americans and therefore interesting, but Rice believed their focused attention had more to do with the massive human loss during the war. The Skawps slaughtered untold billions of people, not something easily forgotten, and it made human life very precious for all of them. They showed great respect to everyone they met, which made it easy for the people of England to like these oddly spoken strangers. They spent an hour in the Arrow’s Song before slowly taking their leave, feeling well satisfied, and though the place inside was brighter than most of the hovels they’d visited, when they stepped out into the now sunny day it took a moment for their eyes to adjust.

The day was clear and warm, but Americans paid the weather little mind, instead their attention was fixed on the nearly one hundred crossbowmen that surrounded them, weapons cocked, aimed and ready.

“Gentlemen,” Sir Eadwulf said with a confident drawl, “ye all be me prisoners now.”

At first no one moved but then Corporal Chuen’s hand shifted instinctively towards his sidearm. Before Peebles could react one of the archers fired. The bolt streaked from his weapon and slammed into the Chuen’s chest. The Corporal flew backwards and banged into the stone wall of the tavern and then slumped to the ground. But the archer instantly knew something was amiss, the bolt did not penetrate the soldier’s vestments. Instead the arrow exploded into a million tiny bits as it struck Chuen’s vest, which was plated with the very latest ceramic composite armor. After a moment Chuen sat up and frowned, much to the surprise of the locals and those closest to him took several steps backwards.

“Stand down,” Peebles shouted, equally surprised, but not by Chuen’s seemingly miraculous recovery. The ceramic vests they all wore replaced Kevlar nearly a decade prior; while lighter it could take a direct hit from most small caliber weapons and leave the wearer unscathed. The General was more surprised that the crossbow had been fired at all. It instantly told the measure of Sir Eadwulf’s resolve. The locals were obviously frightened by the lack of results from the crossbow, but instead of running they instinctively raised their aim slightly to the exposed necks and faces of the Americans. Every American instantly realized that if anyone fired a bolt now, the outcome would be very different…and very messy.

Peebles quickly recognized the danger and signaled Hersey, Sadao and the others to stand down and put up no resistance, at least for now.

While their manner didn’t exactly reflect a beaten enemy, it at least conveyed a certain resignation. At his Earl’s command, Sir Eadric cautiously stepped forward and began to collect the American’s revolvers. He did so gingerly as if he expected one of them to go off in his hand at any second.

“You don’t know what you are doing,” Peebles warned Sir Eadwulf who now stood directly before him. “I wish you would think abou...” The General paused as Sir Eadwulf lashed out, attempting to backhand him across the face, but the General blow deftly caught the blow, “…the consequences of your actions,” Peebles continued and then he thrust the Earl’s hand away.

Years of risking his life and fighting the Skawps each and every day, had honed the General’s reflexes to a razor’s edge. It would have taken a supremely gifted man from these times to equal the training, the commitment, and the experience that Peebles had gained over his lifetime. Sir Eadwulf was not such a man, but this was not to say that the men of the twenty-first century were somehow innately superior, rather they had risen to the level of their competition. To be the best among seven men might be easy, among seven thousand a bit harder, among seven million harder yet, but to be the best among seven billion was inconceivable to the men of this age. There were fewer people in the entire world at this point in history than there were in the United States at the time of the Skawp attack.

“Take them,” Eadwulf snarled, and with that several dozen knights fell on General Peebles and his men. The Americans did not put up a fight and all were quickly bound. They also wrestled Sir Oldalf to the ground, all pretense of his murdering the Earl now safely in the past.

“We seem to be in the verily same fix to be sure,” the large Dane said with a half smile.

“Yor soldiers will do me biddin’ or see yor head on a pike,” Eadwulf growled into the General’s face, his breath so foul that Peebles winced. Eadwulf smiled at his reaction… misunderstanding the reason behind it. “And ye will have the rare pleasure of walkin’ to Rochester,” he added and with what he considered a certain flare ordered Sir Eadric behind the wheel of the nearest Humvee. With a smile, he got in behind his knight and sat in the very seat that Peebles had previously occupied. A host of other knights joined them in the hummers, hooting with excitement as the General and his men were herded together and tied behind several of the horses. Eadwulf and his men were very anxious to try the noisy wagons of the Americans, especially Sir Eadric, but once he grabbed the wheel he was utterly lost as to what to do next. The thing made no noise, and was clearly not moving. He looked back at Sir Eadwulf, who frowned at him, so Eadric gingerly tried a few of the knobs and switches, but to no avail. The blasted thing still would not move, or make noise.

“Mayhap they have trained the thing,” he whispered to his lord.

“Try again,” Eadwulf whispered back, not wanting to acknowledge that he also did not know how the thing moved. So Sir Eadric went back to pushing buttons and flipping switches, and he even tried the peddles down by the floor, but absolutely nothing happened until he stumbled upon the horn, which honked loudly, scaring the hell out of every local, including Eadwulf. Several knights began to clamor out, but were stopped by a word from the Earl.

Peebles and his men watched the entire attempt with wry amusement, but kept their expressions carefully blank.  It was not wise to laugh at the enemy while you were helpless, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. So the Americans watched passively until Sir Eadric finally gave up with a shrug.

Sir Eadwulf leaped out of his seat, drew his sword and walked over to the smug General. Sadao immediately tensed, and mouthed that he was loose, but Peebles shook his head and waited. Corporal Jefferies, Captain Hersey, and Private Hamilton stepped into the Earl’s way. Eadwulf wanted to storm through them, but something in their eyes held him back and he reached out and grabbed Hamilton by the hair and held the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. The sword was sharp and Eadwulf was very good with it, but Hamilton was ready to fall on it if need be, so that Sadao could have an open shot. Sir Eadwulf was very near death, but didn’t know it.

“Ye will tell me how to make the bloody thing move?” Eadwulf said slowly.

“You need the keys,” Peebles replied calmly, ready to fight if need be. He was confident that Sir Eadwulf only wanted information, something he only knew how to get by threat.

“They’re in Staff Officer Newton’s front pocket. The others are with Private Troske I believe.”

“Please M’lord,” Father Gillian finally said, coming out of his shock. “Have mercy and let these men go.”

Sir Eadwulf just looked the priest for a moment as if he had forgotten his presence. “Tie him with the others, church or no, he shares their fate,” he barked with a smile and watched his knight retrieve the keys from the two men.

“Put the key in the ignition...” Peebles said slowly to Sir Eadric, who looked at him questioningly, having no idea at all about an ignition. “Look, why don’t you have one of my men drive you, then you can pay close attention to what he’s doing. At this rate you’ll only end up killing yourselves and maybe a few dozen innocent people as well.”

Sir Eadwulf was livid at the outburst and almost succumbed to his hot emotions, but he was beginning to grow less enthusiastic about riding with Sir Eadric in control, so he reluctantly agreed to release Newton and Trotske to be drivers. The rest were pulled behind the horses, with the crossbowmen bringing up the rear.