The Temporal Knights (64 page)

“Mayhap it
be wise to move down the Lizard,” Helmstan conceded, gripped with apprehension at the thought of Eadwulf’s desertion.

“Tis a good thought,” Alfred agreed.
“Ye sure ‘bout Eadwulf?”

Æthelnoth nodded but said nothing more.

Alfred sighed. All of Wessex would be impossible to hold without his strongest warlord and the thought of the Danes moving down from Anglia in the east suddenly filled his mind with dread. He shook away such thoughts in order to deal with the situation at hand.

“Send two riders to Lydford,” he finally said. “Let us make sure the way is clear. Alfred shrugged. “Send them by different routes, but when the storm abates the attack continues. We stay here until tomorrow midday then move north and cross the Exe.”

Everyone breathed a bit easier. It was a good plan, though they could find themselves trapped at Lydford for a very long time if the Viking army was indeed hunting them on the Lizard. But at least Alfred was not insisting on pursuing the Boneless until they were well and truly caught.

The storm finally slackened just after sunset and true to his word Alfred recommenced the attack on the Viking buhr. But the attack failed before it really started as again the rains came, which made it impossible to continue the assault. Disgusted with the Anglish weather, Alfred was forced to wait until morning. The rising sun however, brought with it a surprise. The rain and wind had stopped, though the sky was still leaden and ominous, but the most threatening sight was on the hills to the east where thousands of Vikings suddenly appeared. The main body of the army was still nearly a mile away and most of the enemy was on foot, though a few hundred were on horseback. The scouts Alfred had sent out had failed him. Halfdan had arrived and would soon have him pinned against the Exe. As he watched the enemy army moved rapidly closer, a horn blew a warning and the English camp came alive almost as once. They would have to be very quick to be ready for the attack and it was only by a miracle of God that they were not caught sleeping.

“M’lord we have to flee,” Sir Wulfhere yelled, grabbing at Alfred’s forearm. The King shook him off.

“To
wot end!” Alfred shouted back and paused for a moment. Halfdan’s army continued to pour over the far hills, adding to their impossible number. There were thousands and thousands, and now the lead elements were running toward the English position, though they still were nearly half a mile away. Once they were within a quarter of a mile the Viking army began to chant loudly and bang their weapons violently against their shields, not only to bolster their own courage but to frighten the enemy and cause panic. It was a highly effective tactic, especially when coupled with an early morning attack on an ill-prepared opponent.

But not everyone watched the approaching army with dread, just as Alfred was forming the first lines of defense; a great cheer erupted from inside the buhr. Ivarr and his men immediately joined in the chant and slammed their swords against their shields creating almost as much of a din as the approaching hoard. The noise, coming from in front and behind, served to unsettle Alfred and his men, but even so they quickly jostled for position in order to face the teeth of the trap. By now every soldier even the men who had precious little counting skills, realized that they were badly outnumbered. Facing them was the largest army any of them had ever seen.

“Our scouts?” Alfred asked to Sir Helmstan who shrugged and blanched slightly at the sight of so many of their enemies, but then he squared his shoulders.

“Dead I’d say,” Helmstan answered, then shouted for his men to form a shield wall.

“Time to kill a few Vikings,” Sir Wulfhere yelled loudly, knowing that the talk of escape was now past. The knight was now resigned to the fact that he would most likely not live out the day, but the decision was out of his hands and in God’s own. At the least he would send as many Vikings to hell and beyond as he could. Alfred nodded with a welcoming smile, the Ealdorman’s earlier transgressions forgotten and both turned to watch as Sir Æthelnoth rode up on horseback.

“Ye must move the fyrd so its back is to Exe,” the Ealdormen of Somerset implored. “Me men will hold them till ye can cross the river.”

Alfred shook his head as the chanting got louder. “Na, if’n we run, they be on us for sure. We’d never make Lydford and me men wold lose all heart and scatter. Better we dig in and force the men to fight. Move yor knights north and circle back and warn F
læ
d!” Alfred answered, his voice rising as his own men began to sing, chant and shout their own challenges. The enemy was nearing now. There were very, very many. 

“Sire, ye must go with him. I’ll stay and hold the army together,” Sir Helmstan argued.

“I canna leave, but Sir Æthelnoth must. Ye go and find me daughter, or we’ll lose all to Ivarr and in truth I’d na say which is worse dyin’ or losin’,” the King replied bitterly.

“They be comin’,” a soldier yelled and Alfred marveled that his own army, though vastly outnumber, was now advancing slowly toward the charging Danes. 

‘Yah tis good to be trapped as they were against the river,’
he thought having no illusions about Anglish loyalty or bravery. Only a fool would stay and fight against such odds if there was a chance to live, but now there was no chance to escape. His men knew it, and so they would fight. Perhaps there would still be those who would sing of the bloody fields of Exeter. Alfred shifted his horse to the left and Sir Helmstan followed.

“Take control of the south,” he told Helmstan, his chief warlord and the man immediately nodded and headed off.

“Ye guard me northern flank for as long as ye can,” Alfred added to Sir Wulfhere, “and mayhap the boneless will still feel a good Anglish sting.” The enemy was near now, no more than two hundred yards. They were no longer running but had formed their own shield wall and were marching together slowly toward the English position. He stared into the impressive enemy lines for a moment before nudging his horse forward, suddenly realizing that Æthelnoth was still by his side. The King scowled.

“Off with
ye now,” he barked and then ignored him and spoke directly to the men on foot that guarded his position. “Forward men…into thee jaws of the dragon!” He yelled and his men cheered, but before they could rush forward an enormous bird roared overhead and the soldiers on both sides ducked at the sound. The entire English army froze, stunned as the bird raced toward the enemy position then banked sharply to the east and moved over the buhr.

The enemy however, did not pause and took the arrival of the giant bird as a favorable sign from the gods and with a terrible cry began to run all out toward the Anglish lines.

But their charge had barely begun before a series of high-pitched screams tore through the morning air. Alfred cringed at the unnatural sound; it was as if the very sky was being ripped open and sacrificed. Seconds later thunder erupted all around the Viking army, throwing dirt, horses and men about like dolls. Blonca, a white mare, skittered about under Alfred, but to his great satisfaction she did not rear or bolt. Alfred could feel the thunder shaking the ground, the power of it running up through the mare’s stout white legs. But Blonca, which meant “white horse,” stood true and strong, never budging.

Alfred nickered softly to calm both their nerves as he watched the Viking shield wall collapse. Almost at once the enemy began to scatter. Alfred felt a moment of panic, believing
Halfdan and his army might escape but then the sky was cleaved open once more, and the screams of the gods echoed off the hills surrounding Exeter. Only a breath or two later, thunder followed and the earth rumbled once more beneath him. Alfred was surprised to find he was relatively calm, though most of his men were either on their knees praying or jostling their way closer to the river.

“Hold!” Alfred yelled and was gratified when a good share of his men returned to their positions.

While his Anglish army watched, terrified but unharmed, the Vikings were in far worse shape; Alfred could see scores of men down on the ground dead or dying along with several horses. The enemy was no longer advancing, but the bulk had not yet fled the field. As he watched, a large man on a horse shouted out to his men and a great many rallied to him.

‘Halfdan!’
Alfred thought just as a group of strange roaring beasts topped a hill to the north and raced toward the battle with unbelievable speed.

Sir Alfred’s army shrank away into itself as if it were one large entity. Most had no idea what was happening, some in the rear, turned and raced for the river, but most just stood and stared openmouthed at the scene unfolding before them.

Alfred, however, had a flash of insight, and one word kept repeating in his brain.
‘Ammericaans...Ammericaans,’
the strangers from a distant land. The rolling beasts roared toward the Danes, and as they did, Alfred caught sight of an occasional burst of light that flew through the air faster than any hawk or falcon. Men and horses fell like so much wheat at the harvest. Hundreds of men and horses were already down and dying, as the heavens screamed out its vengeance once again. Explosions rocked the hillside all around the Vikings until Halfdan spun his horse, and led his army in full retreat away from Alfred…and away from the Boneless.

“Dear God help us,” Sir Wulfhere whispered, surprisingly still ahorse and back at Alfred’s side. He was unable to move; though his horse pranced wildly about beneath him, terrified by the noise and carnage going on in the distance. Alfred and his knights looked on in collective shock, though many of his riders were now on the ground, their horses in full flight away from the battle. The King sat motionless as the roaring beasts of the Americans cut down the Danes that had gone berserker and were still looking for a fight. Within moments the mighty army that was arrayed against him…that would have surely crushed him and all of his fyrd, disintegrated before his eyes. The Vikings that remained were now fleeing in terror as the beasts from the north rushed up to them still killing and chasing. Suddenly however, as if on some unheard command, the beasts stopped their pursuit, swung about, and headed straight for King Alfred and his army. Alfred’s heart pounded in his chest as they came, ten beasts in all. For a moment the English shield wall held firm, but then it melted away as his army parted, his men falling over one another in their haste to be away.

As the beasts drew closer, Alfred could make out the shapes of men, through the clear panels. The men were strangely dressed all in green and black, and they were faceless. But it was said the Americans wore such fearsome helms. Blonca pranced away a bit as the noisy beast drew still closer and Alfred grew suddenly worried. Thankfully the rumbling wagons stopped a good fifty feet away; Alfred, who was now in the very forefront of the army, glanced at each of his knights in turn.

“Ammericaans,” he said softly and signaled everyone to stay put. The lead beast purred softly for a moment and then a man, or at least a man shape got out, climbed from the belly of the beast and hopped up onto the top of the growling monster and held up a hand. The manthing…the American, seemed small and struggled with its helm for a few long seconds
before finally managing to pull it off. To everyone’s shock, Alfred’s most of all, there stood his daughter Æthelf
læ
d, the Lady of Mercia.

For a long moment it was deathly quiet on the fields surrounding Exeter, everyone surprised and shocked to see the figure of Alfred’s grinning daughter. The Anglish army shuffled about, murmuring.

“Greetings father, my King!” She shouted in the still morning air, causing the unrest to die instantly. “Behold, I bring the power to destroy yor enemies.”

Again no one spoke, no one moved, and there was no sound except for the purring of the engines. At first neither of the King’s closest advisors made a move, but then Sir Helmstan spurred his horse closer to his King.

“Tis na her,” he accused softly, though his voice carried well in the still air.

Æthelf
læ
d laughed, it was a unique, hearty laugh for a woman, and the King instantly realized that this was indeed his beloved daughter F
læ
d.

“King Alfred, it is I, yor dear daughter Æthelf
læ
d, come to save yor retched hide once more,” she answered still laughing, but even so no one dared move.

Alfred spurred his white horse forward but strong though she was, Blonca would only approach so close to the beasts that roared. Overhead the two great birds circled, but they were so high in the sky, Alfred could no longer hear them. The pilots were keeping a close eye on the Danes though the King was not aware of it.

“Is the Boneless still in yonder buhr?” F
læ
d asked as Sir Wulfhere finally got control of his horse and moved to the King’s side, whowas but thirty paces from F
læ
d. Sir Helmstan and Sir Siberht likewise joined him.

“Sire?”
Sir Wulfhere said bleakly, but Alfred just held up a hand.

“Father TIS me, F
læ
d!” She repeated still standing on the hood of the Humvee. General Peebles watched her performance with a very large smile on his face, though it was hidden behind his faceplate. He shook his head in wonder at the spirit in the diminutive woman. She obviously had a very strong personality, not something Peebles expected from the women of this time, but the majority of his assumptions about these people were turning out to be very wrong. He sat, silently amused, and watched as she stood confidently on the hummer, intimidating an army in that ridiculous uniform three sizes too large for her. And he had to admit; even he was impressed by her showmanship.