The Temporal Knights

by Richard D. Parker

  “I would leave right now,” he finally answered, firm in his convictions, and explained his reasons, and watched as the Major wilted before them. “We owe it to all the men we left behind, Matt,” the General added softly. “John Wilder, Duncan Hoff, Cummings, they all sacrificed so much more for this victory.”

  “But we’ve done so well here. We may be able to change the course of history with what we’re doing,” Matt argued softly, not convincing even himself.

  Peebles nodded. “Yes, we may be able to change what will be, but none of us will know for sure. History may not be so easy to change and we will need to alter it radically if we hope to defeat the Skawps when they finally do come. But what’s worse, we, those who stay behind will never know, doubt and worry will be with us forever, but you Matt, you will know one way or another whether we have succeeded or not. We have to send a ship. We have to do everything in our power to win victory. It cannot happen again Matt; it cannot happen again,” he finished, tears of anger and sorrow glistening in his eyes. Matt understood his pain, and for a brief moment relived every horrifying day in amazing detail. No, he could never forget the Skawps and what they did to his people...to his family…but...

  “It’s six more years,” he whispered quietly, and still there was no guarantee that he would return to a vibrant Earth. “You will have your life General, while we risk everything again, without fully knowing what we will be returning too…if we return at all.”

  Peebles nodded, conceding the point. “Ah, but you will get to meet the Queen Bitch of our enemies and with luck, blow her all to hell!”

  Matt bowed his head at last, not crying, but truly wanting too. “Yes Sir,” he shouted coming to attention. “I am still in it to the end,” and with that he turned and smartly left the tent without even noticing that he hadn’t been dismissed.

  The General sank back into his chair, cursing life, cursing the gods, cursing himself, but mostly cursing the Skawps. No matter the time, no matter the place, the bastards always seemed to have them by the short hairs.

  Chapter Eight

  Sir Eadwulf listened quietly as the two lords of the west told of Ubba’s defeat, but it was hardly believable. It was simply not possible to completely destroy a castle as well built as the Stronghold at the Hill and route over a thousand vicious Danes in one afternoon...and not lose a single man in doing so!

  ‘Twas na possible!’ If not for his own encounter with the strangers he would have suspected the two noblemen of creating a fanciful story to cover their own cowardice. But he’d witnessed with his own eyes a little of the stranger’s power and so he quietly reserved judgment…plus, he’d gone to the Ealdorman’s underground cells and met the Dane they claimed to be Ubba the torch. There was no doubt that the man was a Northman, but exactly who was anyone’s guess.

  “Tis an unlikely tale to be sure,” the Earl added, realizing how ridiculous their claims sounded to his ears. “But methinks ye should take a trip to the Hill if ye doubt our word.”

  “Na, na,” Eadwulf replied, but still he asked many questions of both vassals, going round and round, but they stuck to their fantastical story. Twas simply na possible, and yet...mayhap, this be the way to reclaim the crown which had been stolen from his family so long ago. These strangers, if even half of the story could be believed, were very dangerous, but mayhap their might could be used for his gain. He would have to be careful, verily careful, and at all costs he must keep these strange men away from Alfred.

  “I’ve sent messengers to the King,” he finally said. “I have warned him to stay away from the invaded western lands until I can come to him personally and assure his safety. Also I want no more messages going out to him unless I hear and consent. I’ll not have him charging up here with his fyrd to rescue us, or to be led into a trap. Understand? Only I communicate with the King from now on, at least until the real purpose behind the strangers is ferreted out.”

  “But…” Sir Æthelred protested, confused by this new twist. Lord Eadwulf held up a hand.

  “I also forbid either of ye to meet with the Genaral or his men until we know just wot they truly want. Tis for yor own protection that I do this.”

  Sir Æthelred’s face went red. “Na…Eadwulf,” he answered his eyes going hard, “ye forget yorself. Methinks ye forbid me nothing!”

  While technically the men were of equal rank, Æthelred considered himself far above Eadwulf’s station. After all, his father was Burgred, the last King of Mercia and it was only after the deal to wed Alfred’s daughter Æhelflæd that Æthelred himself relinquished the title and pledged his loyalty to Alfred as High King.

  The room went very quiet and Æthelnoth, the Ealdorman of Somerset, sat very still, wide eyes. Æthelnoth would protest nothing of Sir Eadwulf no matter how insulting, to him the Earl of Kent was simply the most dangerous man he’d ever known. His fear was so great that he could hardly stand to be in the same room with the man. Sir Æthelred however, finally realized that something was up, but just what he could not say. No matter Sir Eadwulf’s power and influence, he would continue to contact his brother by marriage, King Alfred.

  “Ye forget yorself Earl, methinks my fyrd at Wedmore ‘ave a say,” Eadwulf lied, smiling inwardly at Æthelred’s stunned face. “Yah, riders have been sent, me army could be here in two days time. Ye thinks I planned to move on Ubba with fifty knights?”

  “Eadwulf ye cannot,” Æthelred objected, stunned by the man’s stupidity. “These men be hard fightin’ men. I tell ye they crushed Ubba at the Hill. Ye move yor fyrd to Athelney and yor men be slaughtered.”

  Sir Eadwulf remained quiet for a long moment considering Æthelred’s objections. The man seemed sincere and everyone knew he was a true supporter of Alfred. Could the strangers truly be so powerful? His fyrd, which was actually camped at Rochester, was nearly five thousand men strong with nearly three hundred horse. It was a sizable force for the day and should certainly be able to handle a few hundred men camped out in the open.

  “Ye will keep away from the Genaral,” the Earl of Kent insisted, “and na let them within the walls of Athelney.”

  Æthelnoth nodded his acceptance, his face betraying his excitement. ‘Mayhap soon the Earl of Kent be na more,’ he thought hopefully.

  “And I be having both yor seals,” Eadwulf added calmly. The Ealdorman Æthelnoth went pale, utterly speechless but Æthelred stood quickly, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, only to find he was not wearing it.

  “I’ll na,” Æthelred answered slowly, trying to maintain a sense of calm. Sir Eadwulf had clearly taken leave of his senses. Æthelred wondered briefly if the man had taken a blow to the head while falling from his horse. One thing was for sure he would never give up his seal.

  A seal was a stamp used with wax to close a note or letter. It confirmed the authenticity of the communiqué to the person receiving the message. It was considered a high crime to forge another noblemen’s seal, and was rarely done. It was considered an act of war for any nobleman to steal or take another’s seal.

  “Ye will do it now! I’ll na have good King Alfred movin’ on the Lizard if these strangers be as dangerous as ye say!” Eadwulf barked loudly and the Ealdorman jumped to his feet. He shuffled toward the door but still Æthelred had not moved.

  “Come M’lord,” Æthelnoth said softly and together they took their leave. As soon as the men were gone Eadwulf called in Sir Eadric, Lochlin, and Baaldwin, along with a half a dozen of his trusted lesser knights, just in case. His caution was justified when the noblemen returned.

  The Ealdorman returned first with Sir Oldalf in tow. He had his seal in hand but he had yet to hand it over when the Earl of Mercia barged in with ten knights, including his son Æthelstan and the renowned Sir Beonoth. As far as Eadwulf could tell, the Earl of Mercia did not bring his seal, but he was armed with a sword this time.

  “Wot is the meaning of this Sir Æthelred?” Lord Eadwulf asked calmly, but everyone in the room was on edge.

  “I must
protest. Ye will na be havin’ me seal...tis a matter of honor,” the Earl replied all of his senses alive, waiting for the attack.

  “Na even for the protection of yor cousin and King?” Eadwulf asked his words little more than a sneer.

  “Na even for me King,” the Earl said, standing firm.

  Sir Eadwulf was quiet for a time, relishing the tension in the air. He knew that with but a word from him, someone would die here today, but he never seriously considered it. Oh he was quite sure he and his men could take the Earl’s party even though they were outnumbered. Æthelred’s son did not count for much, but he’d heard that Sir Beonoth was a very nasty fighter.

  “I’ll have yor word then,” Eadwulf finally said, and the tension dissolved. “Send no messengers to the King, without consent.”

  The Earl frowned, relieved that Eadwulf had not pushed the point, for surely it would have come to bloodshed. If he agreed he would be submitting to Eadwulf’s will and thus raising him to equal or beyond. But if it meant the fool would leave his army at Wedmore, it was worth the slight. “Ye have me word.”

  There was a sharp knock at the door and Eadwulf nodded to Sir Eadric, who promptly opened it.

  “M’lord,” Sir Bergaman said stepping through the door into the surprisingly crowded room. “I thought ye would like to know that the strangers are callin’ a gatherin’. They be plannin’ to show everyone ‘xactly how dey destroyed the Danes. Tis called on the morrow just a’fore sunset.”

  Sir Eadwulf quickly looked at Sir Æthelred. The Earl was thoughtful though his faced betrayed nothing of what he was thinking, but the Ealdorman was smiling in anticipation. Eadwulf also smiled. This was precisely what he wished. Now he would have a true picture of the stranger’s abilities, and not have to decipher a lot of nonsensical fairy tales and boasts.

  “Excellent,” he said, then dismissed the two lords. “I want them watched,” he told Eadric after they’d gone, who nodded and left to see to it

  “Excellent,” Eadwulf repeated aloud when he was alone, thinking that this could be the key to regain the throne for his family. If the strangers were as strong as Æthelred boasted they must be kept from King Alfred at all costs. Kent was very strong now, and the strangers could make him all the stronger. He would find a way to control them. He was very encouraged, very hopeful.

  Æthelred however, was anything but hopeful. He went straight to his rooms, where he brooded and thought for an hour before sending a huscarl to fetch his sons. While he was at the door he took a quick look about and immediately spotted one of Eadwulf’s men standing idly at the end of the hall, just as he suspected. He was not truly surprised, but still it struck close to his heart. Eadwulf did not trust his word, which meant that Eadwulf’s own word could not be trusted. He was up to something. The Earl could feel bad days ahead. His sons arrived within moments, but Sir Æthelred just greeted them, asked them to sit, and told them to be still while he thought. Both boys did as they were bid; knowing instinctively that something was seriously troubling their father.

  “Leoforic,” the Earl began but his youngest interrupted.

  “Da! I was reading of submarines...Do ye know wot a submarine is Da?”

  The Earl smiled and shook his head, indulging his youngest.

  “Tis a boat. A boat that floats under the water, and has a long pole called a peeriscope, so that the captain can see where he is going, and it can hold a lot of men, over a hundred. Wouldn’t ye love to see a submarine, Father?”

  Sir Æthelred could not help but smile at his boy’s enthusiasm. His mind was strong and so near to manhood, but he still had the body of a boy. Æthelred had visions his youngest son would do great things. Often the youngest born to royalty were both pampered and spoiled, with no clear goals or ambitions, or they turned deadly, with ambitions for titles and crowns. Leoforic would be neither, the Earl could tell. He would be something different.

  “Leoforic,” he said seriously, motioning toward Æthelstan to pull his seat closer. “I’m going to ask ye to be a man...a man of the mind now.” He quickly had the complete attention of both his sons. “I’m going to ask ye some questions and think long and hard before ye answer them. It could be that me life, yor brother’s and yor own that hangs on these answers.”

  Leoforic nodded solemnly “Wot is it Da?”

  “Do ye trust these strangers?”

  Leoforic had his answer in a split second, but pretended to think about it a bit longer. All the strangers treated him with nothing but kindness, true they could kill, but couldn’t any man. That they could kill well must be taken into account, but they could do many other things well also. What Leoforic felt when he was with them was a sense of goodwill and belonging. He never felt threatened or afraid in any way. Two acts by the Americans stood out in his mind above all others. One was Sadao’s merciful beating of Sir Elid, even though all of the soldiers were clearly angry, and second was the vision of Major Thane and the Lady Ellyn, naked, arm in arm next to the wrecked barn by the river. Both exemplified what was good about these men. But his trust was not truly generated by anything any of Americans did, but rather what they allowed him to do, namely learn and work with the computer. Dr. Rice claimed that their computer’s memory stored all human knowledge up to their time, and Leoforic was finding that memory to be vast indeed. To Leoforic, the computer was like talking to God, and these men allowed him to read and study anything he wished.

  “I trust them Da,” he answered confidently. “Have ye seen their compewters? Do ye know that they can tell ye near anything? They let me read it all. The scholarly monks at Canforth would allow me a book or two, most were forbidden unless I joined their order. These strangers demand nothing and allow everything. Yah, I trust them Father.”

  Sir Æthelred smiled. “Nay I’ve na seen those...commpewters, but like ye, I have grown to trust these men,” he replied and chuckled, then grew serious. “Trust or na, our country is theirs for the takin’ if they want it. They destroyed the Danes the way ye can destroy an ant hill, flicked them away like they be bugs on the ground. Na fortress could hold them out, na army can stand against them, and yet here they sit, waiting for the King and makin’ friends with the likes of us’n.”

  Leoforic said nothing and wondered about the strange mood his father was in, but he kept still and waited patiently on a stool at the foot of the bed. He watched silently as his father paced a bit before stopping in front of the lone window. The Earl gazed down past the south end of town and then beyond the walls to the tent city of the strangers...the Ammericaans, his son had called them.

  “Eadwulf is up to something,” he finally said addressing them frankly. “Ye should be knowing now that I ‘ave never trusted the man, though he be an ally of the King. Eadwulf is strong and has ambitions for the crown. He’ll deny it but I know it to be true…as methinks the King knows. Up to now Alfred has been able to control him...but Sir Eadwulf will na be brought to heel forever. The man’s forbidden any messages to the King, and on this I have given me word.”

  Æthelstan frowned, remembering the encounter. “Ye should na have let him forbid da’.”

  Æthelred smiled grimly. “Canna be helped for now,” he explained and then continued. “He has also forbidden the Ealdorman or I to make any direct contact with Genaral Peebles or any of his men. In truth he has silenced us...why I’m na sure yet, but M’lord Eadwulf never does anything without a reason.”

  Leoforic sat silent, truly stunned. Never before had his father talked to him of affairs of state. It made him feel proud, grown-up and a little scared.

  “The Ammericaans will help us Father,” Leoforic blurted out and Sir Æthelred smiled.

  “Forsooth, but in the mean time,” he said and went to his desk and quickly pulled out a sealed paper and handed it to Æthelstan. He stared proudly at his older son, who had grown into a tall, hard fighting man. “Eadwulf has forbidden messages to the King, but ye will take these to yor mother, in Mercia. She will know wot to do. Leave in the morn,
during the boar hunt, when most of Eadwulf’s men will be preoccupied.”

  Æthelstan nodded, wanting to argue. He did not like the thought of leaving his father in the west with so much danger, with so much still unknown. But he also felt pride, pride for his father’s bravery, and pride that he was entrusted to such an important task. All the lower kingdoms depended on it, and he vowed silently not to let his father down. Of course Æthelstan never even considered that his father was sending him away for two reasons, one was to warn the King, however indirectly, and the other was to get him out of harm’s way. The Earl did not like having all of his heirs in danger at the same time. Leoforic would be staying. Leoforic would be his link to the stra...the Ammericaans.

  “Wot will I do Da?”

  “Well ye have a verily important task me son,” he replied with all seriousness. “Ye tell the...Ammericaans about this new development. Ye will be me personal messenger to Genaral Peebles and Dr. Rice. Will be dangerous forsooth, so ye must take care.”

  “I will Da,” Leoforic said with all seriousness. “I’ll be verily careful.”

  §

  Captain Tom Hersey was up just before sunrise, cleaning the scope to his rifle and day dreaming, though the day had hardly begun. He wore a wide grin on his face but was completely unaware of it. He was happy, happier than he’d been in a long while as he prepared for the coming hunt. He’d barely slept the night before after sauntering into his tent just before two in the morning, managing only about four hours, but it was a peaceful sleep, the sleep of children, the sleep of the dead. During the past five years of intense fighting, whether he was in the sack for four hours or eight, he never woke refreshed and eager to start a new day. Now he greeted each new sunrise with a smile and a soaring heart. He was positive he could function on but two hours, so peaceful was his slumber.