The Temporal Knights

by Richard D. Parker

  “From what the rider said, Alfred’s army is here. If you were going to attack his position would you come from the north, south or east?” Peebles asked and they all studied the map on the dashboard computer screen. At first the Lady Æthelflæd just gawked at the colorful map, fascinated. She could read; her father insisted she learn, and while she recognized many of the names of the major towns, despite the propensity of odd spelling, there were some she did not know and others where she definitely knew no towns actually existed. There were five of them huddled over the screen, staying out of the rain, including Sir Gospatrick and Master Ædwin.

  “From what we’ve been told, the Danes would most likely come in from the south side of the peninsula, probably launched from the Isle of Wight,” Lemay commented. “If we stick to the northern passages we probably won’t run into them and have a clear way to Exeter.”

  “Yah, yah,” Æthelflæd agreed tearing her eyes from the display screen. “The Boneless wintered on the isle the last two years now, and the Danes have controlled it for the past five. They land and raid all along the south coast stealin’ and killin’.”

  Peebles stared at the map a moment. “If they built a fortification at Exeter to lure King Alfred there, my best guess would be that their army would land here...at Bridport or somewhere just east of it. Once on land they’d probably move their army due north to cut off any possible retreat, maybe hold up and wait at Axminster or possibly Taunton for Alfred to take the bait.”

  “That would put the bulk of the Danish army near us, unless they’ve already moved down for the kill...and if there is an army. We still don’t know for sure that it’s a trap.”

  “Tis a trap,” Sir Gospatrick said with confidence, and agreed. “The Danes are na one to build buhrs. They’d rather be a horsed, or escape from the King’s armies on the river. The Boneless would not tie himself down without cause and if the Danes being movin’ down the Lizard we must make haste and follow as soon as the storm let’s up.”

  The General smiled and shook his head. “No, we must be very careful, but we can move now. The rains will slow us, but not stop us. We’ll stick to the north, but I’m sure the Viking army would not cause us any real problems if we happen to blunder into them. We should be able to scatter the lot without much problem, though I’d prefer to fight in more suitable weather. Tell me Lady Æthelflæd; would a storm like this stop the Danes from moving against your brother?”

  She glanced out the back of the truck to the torrents of rain then looked back at the General as if he were daft. “Oh yah, twold be verily easy to lose ones way in such a storm and verily hard to attack. Twold be impossible to communicate in battle, flags and horns wold be near useless.”

  “Good,” Peebles said confirming his own thoughts. “Let’s move to the north around this little town...Rockbeare, and then head due west until we meet the Exe. It should guide us right down to the King.”

  Lemay nodded, but Sir Gospatrick just scowled. He’d ridden this far in the back of one of the trucks with Ædwin and many a strange soldier. It was a nerve-wracking journey, made even more so because they could not see anything but the road behind them. It was disorientating and Sir Gospatrick innards had not liked the swaying of the vehicle, though the men were friendly enough. Still, he knew not how they would move in this downpour, and wished he had his own horse beneath his legs. He felt somehow unmanned, going into battle on foot like some common peasant. His friend Ædwin however, seemed to show no sign of discomfort and spent nearly the entire trip conversing with one soldier or another.

  “Ye can move and see in this?” Sir Gospatrick said holding a hand up to the storm, thunder rolling around loudly to punctuate his question.

  “We can still move, slower mind you, and much more carefully, but the hummer is legendary in my time, and these trucks can move through anything…and twenty-five miles is not all that far,” the General replied, though Rockbeare still seemed a very long way off to the locals. “Now let’s get moving,” he added and donned his helmet then without hesitation stepped out into the driving rain. He paused at the end of the truck to help the Lady Æthelflæd down. The Lady’s own helmet was already on, since she had a much tougher time taking it off because of her flowing hair, she did take a moment to flip the blank metallic visor in place. Despite the General’s recommendations she insisted on having the same helm as all the soldiers and though the amount of information she received was limited, she still adjusted to the virtual display surprisingly well. She even played with the magnification settings, amazed and delighted. As the Lady of Mercia stepped from the vehicle she turned and gazed blankly back at Sir Gospatrick, who shivered and crossed himself.

  “Could I possibly get one of those helms?” Ædwin asked, further irritating his friend. Gospatrick scowled at him, but Ædwin ignored him, knowing that the Lady Ellyn was behind most of his foul mood.

  §

  The storm was not so easy for King Alfred and his men to weather. The attacks on the buhr came to a complete halt, and though there were tents for the noblemen, and a ragged pair for the wounded, most of the army endured the cold, driving rain in the open. The King along with his advisors and most of his more trusted knights pondered the problem within the King’s own tent, including Sir Æthelnoth, Ealdorman of Somerset, who’d arrived just before the rains with thirty knights, seventy-three foot soldiers and just over a hundred archers. Outside the wind howled and the rain beat down hard enough on the thick oiled fabric to cause numerous leaks, but inside they were relatively dry, though still chilly and uncomfortable.

  “The storm will stop them just as it has stopped us,” Sir Helmstan said and everyone agreed.

  “We must use the storm to our advantage then and leave this place,” Wulfhere suggested.

  “Pah,” Alfred shouted. “Wot, wold ye have me do, run like a coward?”

  “We must use the storm and attack when they be least ‘xpectin’ it,” Sir Siberht, the Ealdorman of Devon said, always an aggressive one.

  “Sir Siberht thinks like a King,” Alfred commented and Wulfhere scowled, hating the man’s recklessness though he remained quiet. Sir Siberht was no one to challenge lightly.

  “Forgive me Sire,” Wulfhere added hastily in his anger. “Tis just that we’ve been here over long, and methinks we may be able to use the cover of the storm to move to the north and evade the danger.”

  The King eyed him silently for a time, thinking Sir Wulfhere’s time may be over. “Tis a trap Wulfhere. The road home is already closed. The Boneless wold have ‘xpected us going north. Wot do ye want, me fyrd trapped by the sea? Twold be better to go south, something they twold na ‘xpect, but methinks that wold do little good either.”

  “Mayhap if ye crossed the Exe and moved farther down to Lydford, tis a strong fortified town. There ye could wait for Genaral Peebles or Æthelflæd to come,” Sir Æthelnoth added, taking Wulfhere’s side. He knew the power of the Americans would quickly overwhelm this flimsy buhr of Ivarr’s and with little risk to the King. Something in his gut told him they should not remain in place much longer.

  Alfred nodded and gazed intensely at the Ealdorman of Somerset. “Flæd should be holdin’ up at Sutton or mayhap Kingston against Eadwulf movin’ on Winchester,” the King said somewhat alarmed.

  Æthelnoth coughed once, very conscious of everyone’s eyes on him. “Sir Eadwulf will na be comin’,” he answered and Alfred’s eyes flashed from the Ealdorman to Helmstan and back.

  “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 Flæd!” 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, a
nd 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.