The walk started out well enough but after about a mile the stone road ended and they were all tramping through the muddy countryside. It only took another five miles of walking with boots caked with mud before they were all silently wishing that they’d been chosen to drive. By the time they’d traversed the remaining seven miles to the outskirts of Lundenwic many of the Americans were beginning to tire, despite their excellent health. They derived some satisfaction from the fact that the archers appeared to be equally exhausted, and they were all professional walkers.
Sir Eadwulf refused to allow the Americans a tent and forced them to sleep out in the open with no less than fifteen men guarding the perimeter. All the Americans dropped to the ground with relief. They were still tied, but late that night Sadao crept about and released them all, so they slept more comfortably. They were not allowed to use their radio, and they all realized that if they continued to remain silent, Colonel Lemay would fear the worst and come looking for them. It was a reassuring thought and they slept better for it.
They woke the next morning to the terrifying stucco of gunfire from an M60. Peebles and his men instinctively remained flat on the ground, but Father Gillian and Sir Oldalf immediately jumped to their feet, but it was readily apparent that the fire was not directed at them.
“They must have found the safety,” Hersey said with a smile, as they climbed to their feet and scrambled toward the vehicles. Sir Eadwulf was a short distance away, standing on the nearest hummer, blazing away at the side of a nearby barn. The large caliber bullets were making quick work of the wood and mud daubed wall.
“Idiot,” Rice commented.
Peebles moved quickly to the other Humvee, reached in and flipped a switch. “Computer disengage vehicle H-41,” the General said softly, and since the two vehicles were still linked with the Integrated Weapons System, the gun immediately fell silent.
Once the gunfire stopped, the pitiful cry of wounded and dying animals filled the morning air and Sir Eadwulf’s face went from a smile to a frown just that quickly. Without a word, he jumped from the back of the vehicle and ran to the door of the barn. Nearly all of his knights, including their guards, hurried with their Lord. The group of surprised knights crowded about the small opening utterly horrified by the carnage inside. In all they found eighteen dead animals and five others that were in the process of dying from their wounds. Sir Eadwulf’s new horse was among the dead and his curses soon joined the cries of the stricken animals.
Peebles grimaced, hating stupidity above all else, but Private Hamilton could not control his emotions so well and burst out laughing. The sound was in sharp contrast to those of the dying animals and Sir Eadwulf immediately spun about, his face red with anger. He marched swiftly toward the private, and his knights and crossbowmen, sensing danger, circled the Americans warily. Private Hamilton quickly sobered but the damage was already done. Everyone instantly fell quiet and many of Eadwulf’s men drew their weapons, expecting a confrontation. When Eadwulf was within ten feet of Hamilton he reached into his vestments and pulled out, not a knife as Peebles expected, but a .45 caliber pistol. All of the Americans immediately tensed and shifted about on their feet. The locals reacted to the movements of the Americans by training their crossbows and drawing their swords. Pistols were considered close range weapons and thus were not integrated into the weapons system; there was little the General could do if the Earl decided to fire the gun.
Peebles cursed softly, realizing they were going to have to get very lucky to avoid violence at this juncture. Eadwulf did not hesitate but instead walked purposefully up to the now serious Private Hamilton, aimed the pistol and pulled the trigger. Hamilton dogged at the last minute, but nothing happened. Eadwulf frowned and pulled the trigger once more, but again nothing happened. The Earl yelled in frustration, swinging the pistol about, pulling hard on the trigger over and over again but the trigger would not squeeze. Finally, in a rage, he swung the weapon at the Private’s face. Hamilton dodged it easily and the blow did not land. Eadwulf swung once more and again missed his target. In fact, the soldier continued to dodge a rain of blows, completely avoiding most of them, much to Eadwulf’s and his men’s surprise. Hamilton made no move to attack the Earl, sensing this would lead to disaster. Try as he might, Sir Eadwulf could not land a solid blow on the soldier before him and was soon utterly humiliated. Finally the Earl reached out and grabbed the man and shoved with all his might. Hamilton fell back a few steps but he did not fall, which enraged Eadwulf all the more.
“Get him,” Eadwulf shouted, and over a dozen knights rushed forward. Peebles and his men pressed forward slightly but were held at bay by the weapons trained upon them.
“Easy,” Sir Eadric said and raised his own bow until the point of the bolt was lined up directly on the General’s right eye. Sir Eadric was confident of Eadwulf’s position, but even he was beginning to wonder if these Americans might not be men at all, mayhap woodland spirits…or even gods. In all his life he’d never witnessed such quick, graceful movements in a man, and he quietly wondered what kind of swordsman this Hamilton would be.
“Stand down,” Peebles rasped, knowing that all of his men were itching to come to their comrade’s aid, but his men were disciplined and made no move. They just watched as Hamilton held his own for a time despite being far outnumbered. The young private, kicked and spun, fighting the surrounding knights in a style his attackers were not accustomed to. He dropped a few with hard blows, one from his elbow and one with his left foot. Finally however, the knights were able to move in and pin the soldier. They held him upright and struck him repeatedly, though Hamilton did manage to lunge forward and bust an unwary knight’s nose with a quick head butt. Eventually the private was overwhelmed, forced to his knees and his hands were quickly retied.
“Sir Eadwulf,” Peebles said loudly, trying to distract the unbalanced man, but his words were lost on the Earl as he moved forward. Angry though he was, Eadwulf suddenly recalled his earlier frustrations with the big gun. During the struggle the Earl had located the safety on the pistol and flipped the small metal switch. He stepped forward pointed the gun at Hamilton’s head and quickly squeezed the trigger.
General Peebles closed his eyes as the Private’s head blew apart. The bullet smashed into the man’s skull, completely blowing out the back of his head before piercing the armor and leg of one of the knight’s holding him prisoner. The stricken knight yelled out and immediately went down, screaming and holding his wounded leg. The remaining men leaped back at the sound and horror of the wound; some made the sign of the cross while others waved their swords about in fear. Even Sir Eadwulf was shocked by the results as he was showered with bits of bone and blood from the shattered head. He stood silent for a time, his gaze moving from the dead man, to the weapon and back again. Then he turned and looked at the General, and though it was he who held the gun, his enemy’s face gave him pause. There was no fear, only hatred and death. The Earl’s anger quickly returned.
“Tie them all again,” he yelled, “and do it right this time”
Then he walked right up to Peebles until his face was very close. “Ye be me prisoner General and ye will act like it...mayhap if’n I tell ye that yor little princess is now in me hands ye will know this to be true,” he added spilling his secret, though at this point he knew not whether it was true.
“What?” Peebles asked, as his stomach tightened in fear.
“Yor princess, the one ye call Eve,” Eadwulf explained smiling now, satisfied that he was finally able to get a reaction from this stone-faced man. “She be me prisoner also...mayhap it be her head on a pike if’n ye don do me biddin’, eh?” he added and laughed, then turned away, happy that all was well in the world again.
Chapter Twelve
To the west, Captain Lochlin kept a close eye on both the girl and her keeper, the odd man called Stuart Greybon. In Lochlin’s opinion it was unseemly for a man to wet nurse a child. The man was obviously a coward to do such woman’s work; n
evertheless he did it well and was never far from the young lass. Despite his great patience, there was never an opening for the Captain to snatch the child. There were times when the two were alone, but they were always very near the camp, and the stranger’s powerful weapons kept Lochlin from taking such a risk. Early one evening however, his patience finally paid off when Stuart led Eve and a gang of local children to the river for a swim. As luck would have it, no other adults were with them and the group was a goodly distance from the camp. Lochlin and his men circled through town and rode out the rear gates of Athelney on horseback. They splashed their way to the far side of the river and then made their way slowly to the south along the river bank. Unseen, they tied off their horses well inside a grove of trees and quietly moved up a steep hill toward the swimming hole. They moved quietly, but before they reached the bank they were surprised by a young woman stumbling through the underbrush toward them.
Selby had come alone, after her chores in the kitchens were finished. She loved to watch the men though she knew it was wrong, but she did not have the strength to stop.
“Oh,” Selby said as she spotted the men, terrified that she was finally caught, but before she could utter another word a bolt from a crossbow pierced her throat, passing completely through and flying out the back of her neck. For a moment her eyes showed only puzzlement as if she did not quite believe what was happening, but then terror leaked in from the edges and her eyes went wide. She fell to her knees, her fingers clawing desperately at her injury as she tried and failed to draw a breath. Selby’s mind was so focused on her plight that she didn’t notice that the men moved quickly in, surrounding her. She ignored them. Air was what she needed...desperately. She was in a panic and barely noticed when one of the men grabbed a handful of hair and viciously pulled her head back. Her hands were still at her throat when a sword was driven through her mid-section. The pain was blinding, and for a moment she forgot even about breathing. Moments later the man wrenched the sword from her body and the pain doubled. Selby flopped down beside the path, her body wildly jerking about while she died. Once still, the men pulled her from the path and casually dumped her lifeless body into the bushes.
Lochlin and his men crept quietly toward the river until they dropped prone in the exact spot used by the town’s girls as they watched the men swimming. They had a clear, elevated view of the pool below. Greybon, the child’s watcher, was in the water stripped to his under garments and unarmed, blissfully playing with nearly a dozen naked children, all apparently under the age of ten.
‘Nursemaid,’ the Captain thought with disgust. ‘Twas na a job for any self respecting man.’ The man had to be a coward, or a man who was a woman inside, or both.
Lochlin sneered and then quietly signaled his men to spread out and wait for a clear shot at the man swimming below. They didn’t have to wait long before his back came up and out of the water, perfectly exposed. The bolt hit him hard in the left shoulder, spinning him around and throwing him into the water to die. With a whoop, Lochlin and his men scrambled down the side of the steep embankment. The children, utterly unaware of the attack, continued to laugh and splash about in the water, oblivious as only children can be. It wasn’t until Lochlin was at the very edge of the water that one of the older girls noticed the arrow sticking from the soldier’s back. A moment later she spotted blood in the water and let out a shrill, piercing scream, the kind only very young girls can manage. Lochlin panicked for a moment, completely sure that the scream could be heard for miles around. He quickly grabbed the nearest girl and lifted her up for inspection. The girl, who was far too old, took one look at Lochlin and screamed as well. Seconds later all the children were screaming and scrambling through the water toward the far bank.
In the confusion Lochlin couldn’t locate the young girl called Eve. The little girl was small, five or so and had blonde hair, he knew that much, but at the moment all the little girls looked alike. With wet hair he couldn’t truly tell who was blonde and who was not, and he felt a genuine moment of panic. Naked as they were, he couldn’t even distinguish Eve by her distinctive clothing. After a brief hesitation he grabbed two girls who looked to be about the correct size and age. The two captured girls let out another pair of piercing screams. They were slippery and one squirmed from his grasp. He saw with satisfaction that his men farther up the swimming hole had also snagged two young girls…with four; Eve had to be among them somewhere.
“Here na!” He yelled to Jochryn, his nearest man, and tossed the young girl up and into his arms then Lochlin spun and scrambled after the one who’d escaped. He caught her quick enough and when she screamed again he quickly dunked her head underwater and pulled her along to the bank. When he pulled her head back out she was agreeably quiet and docile. The two men struggled back up the bank with the girls. The rest of the children ran screaming from the swimming hole. Once up the steep bank, Lochlin hurried to the waiting horses.
“Ho!” Calbrin cried in warning from behind the Captain, but by the time Lochlin turned the child watcher was already sliding a knife across Calbrin’s throat, opening a wide, red smile. Lochlin paused a moment among the trees and noticed with surprise that the knife used to kill him was Calbrin’s own. An instant later that very same knife streaked past Lochlin’s right ear and buried itself into a tree. Lochlin required no further persuading and turned and rushed back to the horses.
“Run!” Greybon told the young girl he’d rescued from Calbrin. “Warn the others!” He added and pushed the child back toward the river. Without hesitating Greybon started off down the path, left arm dangling useless by his side. Greybon took a moment to retrieve the knife still sticking from the trunk of the tree. He was nearly naked and the knife was his only weapon but that did not keep him from advancing on the group of abductors.
Lochlin was surprised by the child watcher’s determination, but did not stop to challenge the man since he was still struggling with the naked, wet girl. Thankfully her time underwater had taken much of the starch out of her so that she hung listlessly in his arms. Greybon rushed along the path through the trees, and the Captain quickly realized that this man was no coward.
As they cleared the tree line, Lochlin was happy to see that his men still had three young girls.
‘One has to be the right gyrle,’ he thought, his suspicions reinforced by the fact that the American was still chasing them. Lochlin continued to retreat awkwardly toward his horse, despite the fact that the man called Greybon was only armed with a knife. He knew he couldn’t fight while carrying the girl and he dared not release her. Sir Eadwulf did not stomach failure well.
“Kill him!” Lochlin ordered the three men unencumbered by children, as he hurried past to Windstorm, his large dapple gray warhorse. He tossed the naked girl across the animal’s neck and quickly mounted. He heard a scream and spun. One girl had managed to wiggle free of Jochryn, but he quickly caught her by the hair and jerked her back into his arms. A split second later Jochryn’s head flew back, the hilt of a knife sticking from his neck. Blood poured from the wound drenching the still screaming child. It was an impossible throw; the child watcher was just now getting to the edge of the trees. Luck was with these Americans!
“Grab her!” Lochlin yelled and a large barrel-chested man with a dark red beard snatched at the girl but she wiggled and screamed and darted away from him. Finally he managed to grab her arm but the child just flopped down on the ground and broke away again. Still screaming she kicked and clawed at the man trying to take her.
“Away!” Lochlin yelled not wanting to wait any longer, and he and the other man with a girl spurred off.
Stuart Greybon was now unarmed, badly wounded and nearly naked, but such things did not enter his thoughts because the man with the red beard was struggling with Eve. Seeing her threatened, seeing her jerked about by her hair, seeing the terror on her face completely unhinged Stuart Greybon and drove him to the point of bloodlust. There were only two knights remaining, the one struggling with E
ve and another behind him standing near the horses.
He advanced on the knight with the red beard who quickly drew his sword, now ignoring the screaming girl at his feet.
“Run!” Stuart yelled to Eve, and completely unarmed, charged the knight. The man behind him quickly mounted up and spun his horse to face Greybon. Despite the obvious danger, Stuart rushed forward and performed a masterful head fake that would have made his high school football coach proud. He deftly avoided the first thrust of the sword and then crashed headlong into red beard. The knight grunted and fell back a few paces but did not go down. He tried to gain some distance from his attacker but Stuart held on for dear life, knowing that he had to keep the knight in close where his sword would be useless or he would soon be a dead man.
The red haired knight pushed and struggled with Greybon, who was weak and disorientated from his wound, but somehow he held on. When the man on horseback approached Stuart spun the red haired knight around, using him as a shield. He knew if he could stay alive for a few minutes longer his friends would come charging to his aid, but Sir Endicott, the red haired knight, was having none of it. Endicott began to hit and tear at the bolt in Greybon’s shoulder, the pain was blinding, but it woke the strength of the desperate in him. Stuart leaned in frantically and sank his teeth into his assailant’s Adam’s apple, biting deep and tasting blood. The knight yelled in fright and pain, and immediately switched tactics using all of his might to try and get the madman off of his throat. Stuart continued to bite and tear until another crossbow bolt slammed into his lower back. Surprisingly he felt no sharp pain, more like getting hit with a hammer, but it was a fatal blow; he knew it at once.
‘A kidney,’ Greybon thought absently. ‘They’ve hit a kidney.’ Greybon felt his arms go slack and his knees buckled. Endicott realized his enemy was done for and pushed the strange man away in order to finish him off with his sword, but once they untangled, Greybon ripped Endicott’s knife from its sheath and plunged it into the knight’s side. The knife turned on the Endicott’s chainmail but still penetrated and struck a rib.
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