“Tranter,” the boy answered, clearly frightened.
“My name is Gordon,” Rice replied, “pleased to meet you. Where did you hit your arm?” The boy showed him the spot near the middle of his forearm. “Now Tranter, I’m going to examine your arm,” he added as Wells entered the tent with a nod. “This may hurt a bit, but I know you’re a brave lad.”
The boy nodded, clearly more dubious about his bravery than the man before him.
“Get the portable x-ray machine out and ready,” Rice ordered Wells and then gently lifted the boy’s arm and tenderly probed with his fingers along the boy’s forearm. Tranter winced a few times, but did not cry or call out.
“How old are you Tranter?”
“Nine.”
“You’re a big lad for your age,” Rice added, finishing his examination under the watchful eyes of Padstone and Gillian. He could feel the break in the radius bone of the boy’s arm, but the skin was not punctured, and he called Wells over to take the x-rays.
“We are going to take a few pictures of the inside of your arm, Tranter. When they’re done we will show them to you all right?”
The boy nodded, though he really didn’t understand what was being said. Despite that, he trusted the strange man instinctively, knowing that the doctor knew what he was doing. Rice and Wells moved the boy’s arm into several positions under the x-ray machine causing him a bit more pain, but Tranter was tough and endured it silently. They were done in just a few minutes, and the pictures not long after. Rice held them up to the light with Wells looking on and then he called over Father Gillian and Padstone, who also got a good look at the pictures.
“Tis magical!” Gillian exclaimed.
“Humph,” Rice grunted. “It’s a bad break, but not really too serious if we can set it properly. Let’s give the boy a local,” he added and Wells nodded and prepared the shot.
“Na…the boy’s arm tis gone,” the Friar contradicted. “Twill na work now.” The boy’s father groaned from behind them.
Rice shook his head. “We’ll reset the bone, pulling it back in place so it will heal properly. He should have full use of it in about six weeks, if everything mends correctly. I’m sure it will. This is all fairly routine.” Rice said speaking directly to the boy’s mother and father.
Rice took the x-rays over to the boy and held them up to the light. “Tranter this is the inside of your arm...see how the bone is broken and moved?”
The boy nodded, fascinated despite his pain, as were his parents who now flanked him on either side. His mother looked at the pictures and saw the broken bone and began to cry.
“He’ll be fine,” Rice assured her and for some reason they all dared to hope that it might just be true. “Now Tranter we’re going to have to pull the bone back in place so it can heal properly. I’m going to give you a little shot to help with the pain, but it is still going to hurt considerably.”
“Whil...whilst me arm be able to move again?” he asked, well aware of the consequences. Troy, a young man from nearby Seaham, broke his leg as a child and had been a cripple ever since. He also was aware that there were times when people died of such things, though the reasons were unknown to all since infections were unheard of in these days. At the moment the fear of such a fate far outweighed the fear of pain for young Tranter.
Dr. Rice smiled. “Yes, we’re sure you’ll be able to recover full use of your arm.” He nodded to Wells, who came forward with the needle containing the anesthesia. The boy had no idea or phobia about needles and watched fascinated as it was stuck into his arm. He only flinched a little but the pain of it was minimal compared to the actual break.
“I need you to lie back now,” Rice said, and the boy did so, then he retreated a bit to wait for the boy’s arm to go numb. He called both Padstone and Father Gillian over to the far side of the tent and explained what was going to happen and what they could do to help. Both were completely willing, fascinated and utterly in awe of the man before them. After a few minutes they all approached and smiled at the boy, who smiled back bravely.
“Are you ready, Tranter?”
“Yah, me arm be tinglin’.”
“That’s the medicine working,” Rice said and nodded to Wells who moved around and stood behind the boy’s head. Wells gently but firmly placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Friar Padstone took hold of the boy’s good arm to hold it still, as he was instructed. Father Gillian meanwhile went to the boy’s parents to keep them out of the way.
Rice felt along the boy’s arm once more, and then quickly grabbed him along the wrist and the upper arm and with constant pressure pulled the boy’s arm back into place. Beads of sweat appeared on the boy’s brow and he sucked in a deep breath, but he did not cry out. The pain grew steadily and was at least as bad as it had been during the fall though not quite as sharp, but once the arm was in place it quickly subsided to a dull throbbing.
“We’re finished for now, but we need to take additional pictures to make sure the bone is set properly,” Rice explained and Tranter’s mother began to cry once more but this time with hope and relief.
The second x-rays were good and Wells quickly made up a plaster cast for the boy, who was simply captivated by the entire procedure, as were the two local physicians.
“This will harden quickly and protect your arm from further damage as it heals,” the Lieutenant said just as he was finishing up, then he rigged a sling to help the boy hold his arm up and in fifteen minutes everything was complete. Both Padstone and Father Gillian studied the cast with great interest, as did the boy’s mother and father, who could not contain their gratitude. Neither parent was completely convinced their son’s arm would truly heal but part of them wanted to believe, and they now stared at Rice as if he were some sort of sorcerer.
“It is a custom of our people to write greetings and good tidings on the cast to help the bone inside heal...you and the boy’s friends may draw pictures on it if you like,” Rice explained with a smile, realizing now that very few could write or read.
“We’ll keep the cast on for six weeks,” Wells explained to the parents, who looked at him very strangely.
“Six weeks?” the father asked.
“A moon and a half,” Rice explained and both parents nodded. “He’s welcome to come to school and learn to read a bit while it heals.”
“And he will need to be very careful with his arm for the first...for the first half moon,” Wells continued. “If anything happens bring him back to us and we’ll have another look.”
Tranter was now up and looking about with interest as both of his parents thanked Rice, Wells, Padstone and Father Gillian. The family was overwhelmed with gratitude and it was a very satisfying experience for them all.
§
It was already evening when Rice finally returned to his tent. Leoforic was there waiting for him and looking at detailed maps of various countries.
“Canna I stay with ye?” Leoforic asked with a hopeful look. “School be verily grand, even Harden twas excited by it,” he added without waiting for an answer. Rice smiled at the young man and patted him on the head.
“They’ll be back tomorrow?”
Leoforic nodded.
“You may stay,” Rice told the energetic youth and sat on the edge of his cot, suddenly tired, more emotionally than physically. It had been the most rewarding day of his life. “Are you hungry?”
Leoforic nodded again, but then frowned, thinking. “Docktor Rice?” he asked and began to study the computer screen while Gordon changed into clean clothes. They both were expected at the Ealdorman’s for supper in about an hour. The doctor could hardly wait. He was famished.
“If ye be from Colorado, how did ye get here?” Leoforic asked thinking that Colorado must indeed be an enchanted place. He wondered why anyone would wish to leave it to come to Somerset.
Rice scratched his head and stared up at the boy, who was tall and painfully thin with a shock of brown hair that had that wild, just out of bed lo
ok. But to be fair, such a look was the fashion of the time, or at least the end result of the times, since there were few mirrors, and those only for the very rich.
“Well, that’s a complicated thing, and not easily explained,” he answered staring at the boy bluntly, whose face was eager but his expression also carried a touch of apprehension. Rice nearly decided against the truth but then took a deep breath. If anyone was going to accept them for who they truly were, it was Leoforic.
‘Might as well try the truth out on the young,’ the doctor thought with his own dose of apprehension.
“You see Leoforic we are not from this time,” he began, but could tell right away that the boy was not catching his drift. He paused for the briefest moment, remembering how the previous day Leoforic had run screaming from this very tent...but once more decided to go on, after all the boy was eager to learn.
“Do you know what year it is?” Gordon asked.
“Yah,” Leoforic said looking up, now curious, “tis the year 893, after the death of our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
“Well Leoforic, we come from the year 2027 after the death of our Lord, Jesus Christ.”
The boy stared at his new friend for a moment, and then his eyes suddenly grew very large as he finally comprehended what was being said to him.
“In that year,” Gordon continued, “nearly all the people of the world were dead...all the women, all the children, and all the men...except what you see here, now at Athelney. We were attacked and killed by beings from the stars. We call them Skawps because of the sound they make, but we don’t really know what they are, or where they come from, or even why they attacked us. Our only chance was to move back in time and teach humanity, and hopefully grow strong enough to repel the attack when it finally comes again.
Leoforic was very quiet, thinking hard...these were concepts no one in the year 893 even considered, and they made his head hurt.
“The Skawps must have been fierce men,” he finally said.
“Not men at all,” Rice said coming around behind the lad. He touched a few buttons on the computer and called up a rather clear picture of a Skawp warrior. It was large and dark in color, and was covered with a hard exoskeleton. The creature had seven limbs in all, four of which were always on the ground, plus two higher up that ended sharply like teeth and finally a large arm full of long, thin tendrils. But what stood out was the creature’s six eyes all grouped closely together in the center of its oblong head. Black and emotionless, the eyes stared blankly at the camera, positioned just above a long mouth filled with hundreds of sharp tiny teeth. Rice shivered. The Skawp in the picture seemed to be looking directly into his soul. The creature was holding a laser weapon designed by the beasts. No hint of intelligence came through the face, but Rice knew intelligence was there. He shuddered again, vividly remembering the death and terror. He clicked off the screen while Leoforic turned and stared at him, his mouth open in horror.
“Ye fight monsters?” he asked thinking the beast in the picture must have been some sort of dragon.
“Yes.”
Leoforic paused for a long moment, then. “I will learn...I will help,” the youth whispered with a gulp, trying to be brave.
Gordon smiled, shaking off the last of the horror and felt his eyes grow moist. “Thank you Leoforic,” he finally managed to say, and then after a moment they headed off into the rain to join the others braving the elements and making their way to the Manor Hall.
They just reached the Hall when a call came in that riders were approaching from the north. General Peebles ordered his men to stay put and do nothing, but to keep alert and defend the camp if attacked. Then he informed the Ealdorman that he would soon have more visitors, and in fifteen minutes the group appeared out of the dark and rain, though the sun had not yet set. It turned out to be Leoforic’s father, Sir Æthelred, the Earl of Mercia, along with twenty-two of his knights, and even though the day was foul and dark, Æthelred made due note of the many men and tents around the Ealdorman’s town.
The Lord of Mercia and his men entered the Hall, wet and confident, as the Ealdorman’s servants scrambled to set up yet another table and more chairs. The seating arrangements were also being shifted as Æthelred stopped and studied the many strange men present. No one said anything as the Ealdorman approached and greeted the King’s bother-in-law with the respect due one of greater social rank, and Æthelred, who was a tall kindly, older man, returned the greeting with a smile and a clap on the back.
“Ye be hidin’ an army out here, Sir Æthelnoth?” Æthelred asked looking about and noted the strange dress of some of the men. Then Leoforic, his youngest son and child, rushed up to him with wide eager eyes, clearly excited.
“Greetings Da’,” the boy said formally, though it took all of his self-control not to take his father’s hand and drag him off to meet Dr. Rice.
“Greetings boy,” the Earl of Mercia answered mockingly and grabbed his son, whom he doted on and gave him a large bear hug. Æthelred was reassured by the sight of his youngest. There was great talk out east about rising trouble with the Danes in the west. Rumors were growing of Ubba laying waste to much of Devon and Somerset. But Æthelred could tell instantly from his son’s manner that there was no danger here, unless of course, it be overt and hidden from the boy’s eyes.
“Da, I’d like ye to meet someone.”
“Yah, yah,” the Ealdorman interrupted. “Ye must be meetin’ our new friends,” he added and led his Lord to the head of the table, where General Peebles was standing and waiting. Æthelred followed along, very curious and a little on edge when he realized the man before him was enormous in size.
“Genaral Peebles, this be Sir Æthelred, brother by marriage to King Alfred of Wessex, and Earl of Mercia.” Sir Æthelred, who was tall and thin, stood out in sharp contrast against the squat and wide Ealdorman. Both men were heavily bearded though Æthelred managed a modicum of control over his facial hair, where the Ealdorman let his grow wild.
“Sir,” the large stranger said and bowed in greeting.
“Genaral....” Æthelred answered with a nod, his tongue tripping over the unfamiliar title.
“The Genaral be the leader of the strangers. They be willin’ to help rid us of Ubba’s Danes on the Hill,” the Ealdorman explained at his Lord’s questioning tone. “His men be Curnell Lemay,” who nodded at the introduction, “Mayjor Thane, Doktor Rice and Masters Robertson, Jefferies, and Sadao.” Æthelred noticed that all of these men were giants, though some bigger than others. They were all very serious, with the hard, cold eyes of warriors, though none carried swords or seemed to be armed at all. The Earl of Mercia was very troubled despite the easy calm with which the Ealdorman and his son seemed to accept these strange men. They spoke peculiarly, and there was only a single reason to bring an army onto the shores of the English…and that reason was never pleasant for the people of this land.
“Father they be friends,” Leoforic whispered to him, sensing his caution. Æthelred was inclined to trust the judgment of his son, who was clever, but still he was cautious. The Earl then introduced his men, including his eldest son Sir Æthelstan, and his top warlord and knight, Sir Beonoth.
Everyone was duly respectful, but the feast started off tensely. Æthelred soon relaxed however, when he noticed that the Ealdorman and his men treated the strangers with respect and friendship, though the stories they told of the flying dragon, and wagons moving without horses, could hardly be believed.
Despite his caution, everyone in the hall seemed to be enamored with the strangers, from the serving wenches, many of whom shared a wink or a quick caress with one or more of the strangers, to the Lady Ellyn, who was fawning over one of the taller strangers, apparently with her father’s acceptance. It had been his wish to see the Lady Ellyn married to Leoforic, but he saw now that his plan might have to be altered, though he would do so grudgingly. Sir Oldalf was rich and ran his lands well; his daughter would make a fine match for his youngest.
Th
e Earl sat stiff and quiet as he studied the proceedings around him, but noticed that Sir Elid, always a serious man looking for a fight, was also laughing and enjoying the company of two odd looking strangers at the far end of the Hall. His eldest and the rest of his knights soon relaxed in the warmth of the Hall as they filled their empty bellies with food and mead.
But what impressed the Earl the most was the behavior of his son Leoforic, who was talking animatedly to one of the strangers. It was the man called…Rice, he believed. Strange names for these strange men, though they could be Danes with their size and height. However Æthelred had never heard of a clean shaven Dane and they didn’t appear to be goin’ a-viking at the moment. Leoforic was smiling and laughing and talking but more importantly he was looking up at the man with true adoration. Up to now it was a look Leoforic had reserved only for his father. The Earl was thoughtful, and silent, missing little, but then one did not stay alive very long in these times if one was not wise and observant.
“Genaral Peebles,” the Earl finally spoke just as the entertainers came out. “How be it that ye come to these lands?”
The General paused for a moment. This was the first thing the Earl, who was sitting directly on his right, had said in nearly three quarters of an hour. Peebles had spent the time trying to size up the elderly Earl. The man had a serious streak and a watchful eye, something the General could appreciate. But his demeanor was in sharp contrast with the Ealdorman’s, who was for the most part open and easy to read. No doubt the man was cautious, and he wished for a brief moment that Dr. Rice was nearby for advice, but then he shrugged.
“We come from far away. We were forced out of our lands by invaders, so we know how you feel about the Danes,” he answered, knowing that it was an awkward beginning, but it couldn’t be helped now. He raised his eyes to Colonel Lemay, who was seated across from Peebles with his back to the main floor, in order to make more room for chairs around the tables.
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