It didn’t hurt his optimism that he’d spent the previous night with Hester, a fresh faced twenty year old widow and mother of two. She was a refugee of Pilton. Her husband was killed six months prior, but not by the Danes. Rather he died when a large support beam fell on him while he was helping his neighbors erect a house. It pinned him to the ground and crushed his ribs. By the time his friends removed the beam the damage was done, his right lung was punctured. He was strong and managed to live another five painful days. Hester was by his side the entire time, but there was little she could do and he died coughing up blood all the same. She grieved for a full day but it was a hard time and her husband had left little behind in the way of support other than his two small sons and on old milk cow. Truth be told, Hester was just getting over his death, when the Danes attacked. She and the boys managed to flee, but she lost the milk cow and the wattle and daub hut she called home. She loved her late husband dearly, but to survive she had to move on quickly.
Hester had flaming red hair and dark freckles that covered her entire body, though Captain Hersey was not aware of that fact when they’d first met. It was her hair that caught his eye. He stared at her across the bonfire that first night after the arrival of the refugees, entranced. At that time he’d never touched red hair before, but instead of acting shy, he’d surprised himself by walking right over to her to get a better look. Hester, in turn, stared right back at him. To her, he was exotically strange looking, to her he was a Moor; a man from an unknown and far off southron land. She found his looks to be strange, though somewhat pleasing. His dark eyes captivated her and his smile lightened her heart.
“Hello Miss,” he said looking down at the young woman and smiling. Then his eyes moved to her boys who were hiding behind her skirts. Each of them sported the same red hair as their mother, though theirs for the most part was allowed to grow wild. Her oldest was four and named Lawson after his father, and his younger brother Dwennon was three. They stared at the tall, dark stranger before their mother with wonder.
“Good eve,” she said, head down, knowing that this was one of the strangers who’d allied themselves with the Ealdorman of Somerset; who could fly magically through the air and fight like demons. But since her arrival with the rest of the refugees, the strange men had treated them all very warmly. They even let her sons ride on one of their noisy, horseless carts. Both boys now spent much of their time talking about and imitating the large strangers.
“Are you afraid of me?” Hersey asked, wondering at her timid answer. But she lifted her head and a fire sprang into her eyes.
“Na,” she pronounced fiercely and Hersey flinched, recalling the temper red headed people were supposed to possess. He smiled.
“That’s good because I’m afraid of you,” he answered, and she frowned at him. Lawson giggled and both boys took a step out from behind their mother to get a better look at this tall imposing stranger who was afraid of their mother.
“Sir,” she said looking into his eyes and growing angry, though why she could not have said. “Ye na be afeared of me.”
“I am,” Hersey replied simply, honestly. “I want to touch your hair and I am afraid you’ll say no.”
Hester’s face exploded in scarlet; growing so red that Hersey was taken aback. Even still, he was very intrigued and very attracted to this unique looking woman. Never in his life had he caused such a reaction back on old Earth.
“Ye...ye be wantin’ to touch me hair?” Hester asked disbelieving, but feeling her heart thumping in her chest.
Hersey nodded.
Hester paused a minute, then smiled. “Methinks that could be granted, if’n ye let me touch yor hands and face. Ye be a strange lookin’ man and I’ve never met the likes of ye a’fore.”
Hersey hesitated for only a moment and then reached out to stroke her hair. For the most part it was tied up and piled on her head, but with all the dancing a good deal of it had broken free of their pins as was hanging down, framing her face. Hersey took a loose strand between his fingers. Her hair was soft and smooth and he had to resist the urge to hold it to his nose and smell it. In turn she reached out and touched his arm, and face, and asked him to bend so she could touch his own curly, black hair.
“Feels like wool,” she announced and now her sons were out of hiding and demanding to feel the stranger’s hair for themselves. Hersey laughed, “Yes I need it cut badly,” he explained and then went to his knees so the boys could touch his hair and face.
“Mother,” Lawson said simply, “methinks he’s just one big freckle.”
Hersey laughed long and hard, sitting on the ground and playing with the two boys, while Hester watched, standing over them.
“I’m Tom, Tom Hersey,” he said looking up at her.
“Hester Manning,” she answered with a smile and introduced her boys. They all quickly became quite close, and last night Tom Hersey had slept with Hester for the first time, holding her freckled, warm body next to his.
“I said are you ready?” General Peebles asked, looking down at the Captain, who was looking back, but not seeing him.
Captain Hersey blinked. “Oh, yes Sir! I can hardly wait,” he answered sheepishly.
“Should be quite interesting,” Peebles replied with a nod. “We’re meeting at 0700 hours outside my tent...and Captain, we’re only bringing along a dozen men, please make sure at least eight are in full battle gear.”
“Yes Sir,” Hersey answered, and as Peebles was about to walk away he noticed that the smile, which was present as he walked up, returned once again to the Captain’s face.
“Are you all right Captain?”
“Oh, oh yes Sir. It’s just these people. They’ve welcomed us with such goodwill; I can’t help but feel happy that we’re here and safely away from the Skawps.”
“They’re treating you well?”
Hersey nodded. The people of this time had no real prejudice against him. To them he was a Moor, descended from a proud and dominate race from the south. He was no longer a descendent of slaves, the last of history’s slaves. After over two hundred and fifty years, the stigma of color was finally wearing thin in his old country, but it had taken the utter catastrophe of the Skawp invasion to truly make all men equal. Hersey was positive now that the attack would make such equality permanent.
But these people had not experienced the vast suffering of Peebles and his men, but neither were they aware of the hundreds of years of forced slavery on the African people. To them he was a Moor, a powerful stranger, and they treated him as they would any of the Americans.
“Just fine commander, just fine,” and his smile returned. The General left, guessing the reason for his Captain’s sudden happiness...and distraction. Women...they were a blessing and a curse, and that was as true now as ever.
The boar hunt got underway just after 0730. General Peebles’ party consisted of twelve men. Going along were Colonel Lemay, Dr. Rice, Sergeant Sadao, Corporal Jefferies; also along were Captain Hersey and Corporal Hernandez, both trained snipers. They met the Ealdorman, Sir Eadwulf and a half dozen of Eadwulf’s knights at the stables where they were preparing their mounts for the day’s activities and it was only then that Peebles realized that he was in the unenviable position of being without transportation. He’d assumed that the hunt would be conducted on foot, and had made no preparations for anything otherwise. But the Ealdorman was ahead of him and had no less than twelve horses saddled for his men.
“This could be interesting,” the General commented, and though he was an accomplished rider, having grown up on a large ranch in Montana, he knew that many of his men were city boys.
“Want me to re-evaluate...find some riders from back home?” Lemay asked, but Peebles shook his head.
“They’ll be all right. I doubt any difficult riding will be needed. I hardly believe we intend to engage a wild boar from horseback.”
“Na, we ride in close and let the dogs take over,” the Ealdorman said listening in, as was Sir Eadric and
several others. “Winter is best for boar, but me dogs can root them out of the brambles.”
And there were dogs about, dozens and dozens, most of the same breed; something the Ealdorman referred to as an Alaunt which was a short haired breed that looked somewhat like bulldog-mastiff mix. But there were other dogs, including a greyhound like dog called a Levrier, plus Lymers, which were huge powerful beasts that were kept on short thick leashes and led by peasants. Peebles had no doubt whatsoever that one of these could bring down a boar by itself. It was a pair of Levrier’s that Private Brooks killed on their first meeting with the Ealdorman, and some of the dogs still gave the strangers a good deal of distance, though most were friendly, playful and as eager as their masters to begin the hunt.
They began the trip with just under one hundred people, most were common folk, drum beaters, horn blowers and dog handlers, and they would walk to the hunt. It would take about an hour and a half to get to the wooded area where the boars were plentiful. Of course everyone knew that despite the preparation, the day’s hunting might be for naught; the boar, though vicious and very deadly, was by nature a cautious and shy beast. If they had any warning at all they would run to their burrows and then no matter how much noise the peasants created, the beasts would not come out. No, it was imperative that they caught the boars out in the open and drove them away from their dens. Only then could they hope to kill one, but of course, it was then that the boars were at their most dangerous.
The day was overcast, but the clouds were moving fast and thinning in spots and it was much warmer. Peebles hoped they’d give way and reveal their blue backdrop. He’d found after years of living inside a mountain he craved the sun, craved it every day. Once across the Exe the expedition headed southwest toward the village of Helmstan. They rode across open fields since there was no road, and along the way they scared up a number of pheasant, a few pigeons and some rabbits. The locals tried for the small game, but came away empty handed, except for one dog who happened to surprise a pheasant on the ground. And for the most part all they saw was small game, nothing larger, however the locals did point out some wolf sign, though thankfully they did not spy any of the elusive animals. General Peebles gave his men strict orders not to fire their weapons until the hunt was on. They reached the forest well before they reached the village, and the countryside they passed through was entirely devoid of people. Sir Eadwulf remained mute during the ride, and both the Earl and the Ealdorman conversed sparingly. The General was about to mention this but decided against it. He did, however, issue minute hand signals, warning of possible danger to Lemay and the rest of his men.
The green edge of the tree line did little to hint at the majesty of the deep woods, but once they crossed the outer boundaries, it was like entering into another world. The forest was old…very old, and the trees were enormous, their canopies all but blotting out the sky. It was like something out of a movie set. Towering oaks dominated the forest, some with limbs that nearly dipped to the earth. Some limbs were so big a man could easily walk along them without fear of losing his balance or falling. In most areas the undergrowth was very sparse, but there were open places where a mighty oak had fallen that new, young growth thrived. General Peebles was immediately reminded of a cathedral, and entering the wood was something of a religious experience for him and his men.
“Incredible!” Colonel Lemay muttered and Peebles nodded.
“Absolutely beautiful,” he agreed.
“Yah but ye must be verily careful,” the Ealdorman was saying to the General as they dismounted, thinking of the fairy people who inhabit the deepest parts of the woods. “The trees hide many dangers, man and beast be the least of yor worries.”
They stopped to eat and drink while the peasants moved quietly off into the forest, hoping to drive the boars back toward the noblemen.
“Yah,” the Earl added. “I’ve seen a boar split a man from knee to neck with but one pass of his tusks...they be razors, and the young ones be verily fast.”
“Yah, and many a dog have they kilt...deadly these boars...but verily good eatin’” added the Ealdorman.
Peebles nodded. Wild boars were notoriously dangerous animals whose reputation lasted even to his day, that the people of this time would willingly hunt and kill such dangerous animals was a testimony to both their need and their bravery.
The nobles rested, eating leftover biscuits from the morning meal, and drinking wine. Everyone seemed excited and thrilled to be hunting; it was a trip that was long overdue. General Peebles allowed all of his men to rest and eat, but insisted that one remain on alert at all times in full gear, visor down, which unsettled Eadwulf and his men, but neither the Earl or the Ealdorman paid the soldier any mind.
“Will we be hunting only boar?” Dr. Rice asked, fascinated by the entire process, and realized that these people were really just hunter-gathers, and did not yet have the capabilities to survive on only their agriculture.
“Na,” the Earl responded slowly chewing on a stale biscuit, “but that wot we mainly be after. We’ll hunt wot we find, though we have brought the dogs and weapons for boar.”
“What...” Rice started to ask, but a loud deep horn sounded far off in the woods. The Ealdorman smiled. The peasants and dogs had their quarry on the run. The nobles leaped to their feet, only a fraction of a second slower than their American friends and without hesitation moved off through the giant trees. A half dozen dog handlers led the way, their canines pulling eagerly on their leashes.
“Careful everyone,” the General cautioned as they stepped deeper into the forest, where visibility quickly diminished.
“Let’s go full IWS,” Lemay ordered and to a man they lowered their visors and dropped into the virtual world. The air was now alive with barking dogs, blowing horns, and beating drums. The hunt seemed to be barely controlled chaos to Peebles and his men. They realized soon enough however, that the locals knew what they were doing and their methods were very effective.
“Infrared,” Lemay ordered and the heat signatures of every living thing showed up starkly against the cool background of the forest. Another horn blared in the distance, and the directional mics plotted an optimum course. The Americans shifted into the right direction even before the dogs brought by the locals.
“Cheun and Brooks flank us gentlemen,” Lemay said to the only two soldiers authorized to go live with their M18’s. “You’re our protection, everyone else side arms only,” the Colonel ordered, and the two men instantly moved out to the left and right, their entire attention now on their comrades in arms and any possible dangers to them.
Sir Eadwulf watched the Ammericaans closely, utterly fascinated, and though he could not hear everything that was being said, he could tell that orders were being given and followed immediately. He studied every movement the strangers made but held his position behind the lead dogs, and then he cocked his crossbow, as did every other nobleman in the vicinity. The peasants mingling among the hunting party carried long spears, which were mainly used to guard the nobles while they took aim with their bows. Boars were very fast and would be nearly impossible to hit while moving, but if the dogs could corner, or confused them long enough then the crossbow became a very lethal weapon.
The horn sounded again.
“Got them,” Lemay announced. He was a little in front and to the right of the dogs. He turned slightly and moved quickly to the left, cutting across in front of the anxious dogs. The others followed as did the excited canines.
“Heat signature coming this way very fast,” Corporal Killian added, plainly excited. The soldiers all spotted the movement on their TVD’s three full seconds before the dogs in the area and then everything went wild. The boar darted to the right, but was completely encircled by the large, though ever shrinking contingent of men and dogs. The animal veered about so quickly that no one even released a shot.
“God, he’s fast!” Cheun exclaimed as the circle steadily closed. The dog handlers let loose a pair of Alaunts who stre
aked after the boar, confusing the heat signatures. The boar turned back toward the noblemen who prepared themselves, but just before it reached them it streaked away once more, this time to the left, safe for a moment but the circle continued to close. More dogs were released and the boar, now frantic, ran inside the shrinking circle before quickly darted directly at the nobles, his path taking him just to the right of Peebles and his men.
“Here he comes,” Peebles and Rice warned at the same instant, and suddenly there were two, as another boar came leaping, maddened by the squeals of the other, out of its den. One caught a dog along its haunches and the animal yelped, flew into the air and went down. The boars darted about and then suddenly both flew at the nobles. Sir Æthelred shot a bolt but missed just as one of the boars, whipped through a group of huscarls, slicing directly toward Æthelnoth. But the beast had the misfortune of running headlong into a spear and was skewered. The boar dropped dead not three feet from the Ealdorman, who sighed with relief.
In the confusion, the other boar launched itself at Lord Eadwulf and the knights in his area. They all fired their weapons and to a man missed the cagey creature. The boar was incredibly fast. Eadwulf’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, though he knew the animal would be on him before he could draw it. The boar raced forward, death reflecting in his bloodshot eyes as he headed directly toward the Earl of Kent. Eadwulf turned slightly to protect his groin, his sword only half way out of its scabbard, when two loud cracks echoed through the forest and seconds later, for no apparent reason, the beast fell at the Earl’s feet. The animal raised his head, eyes blazing red, filled with hate and anger. It struggled for a moment to rise and then exhaled a mighty breath and died. Eadwulf was not completely sure what had happened. One instant he was facing possible death and the next the boar was dead at his feet. He and his knights looked around and spotted a stranger, who they did not recognize. The man’s helmet was on and his visor obscured his face. But the soldier approached with something in his hand, which he carefully kept pointed at the boar. His full attention on the animal until he was close enough to be sure the animal was dead. The stranger lifted the visor and Colonel Lemay smiled out at them. Sir Eadric, glad though he was, shuddered helplessly.
The Temporal Knights Page 27
