“Roger,” Matt replied calmly. “We should be able to hold the fort down for a few minutes.”
“I’m sure you will. We launched both Bots...Goode and Gardner should be overhead in five...”
“Yes Sir,” Matt answered completely unworried, knowing that even one man with an M18 could easily defend the town against any army from these times. The Lady Merwinna arrived to find all the soldiers in full battle gear, though Matt only wore a small headset and his face completely free, which put the Lady Merwinna at ease. The sight of all the blank faceplates unnerved her almost as much as her husband, though she knew there were men behind them. But she contained her fear well, and reported that they were not truly expecting anyone...but she guessed it could possibly be an emissary from the King, or perhaps King Alfred himself. Matt, and a contingent of fully armed soldiers, led her back through camp and stopped directly in front of the main gates to Athelney. Matt warned the perimeter guards to hold their fire unless directly threatened, and to do anything possible to avoid a confrontation. The camp however, was on high alert. The Major would be taking no chances with his precious supplies. Dr. Rice, Lee Robertson and Frank Blish were also part of the welcoming committee. The four of them were the only soldiers not in full battle dress. Off to the right of the main gates and ringing the camp were many soldiers, plainly visible, and armed to the teeth.
“They’re still almost a mile out,” Corporal Garraty reported, “but they’re coming fast now...no sign that they’ve spotted any of the sentries yet.”
Matt took a deep calming breath, nervous but showing no outward signs of it. The Lady Merwinna watched all the soldiers closely, impressed by their calm, feeling that her own nervousness was utterly transparent. As they waited, she was struck by her deep feelings for them...the soldiers and men in general. She loved and envied the strength and courage of men.
The day was beautiful, with a nice breeze, but clouds were building in the west, promising more rain. Two minutes went by before the riders topped a distant hill to the southeast and became visible to the naked eye. They rode directly up the crude main road to the town, but still gave no sign at all that they were aware of being watched…closely. They did, however, pause on the hilltop for a moment, obviously surveying the grounds surrounding the town, which was packed with tents and people, both from the future and from Pilton. Peebles and Lemay watched through the network as they drove quickly closer, now no more than six miles away.
After their brief hesitation the horsemen started confidently forward, and Matt found the sight truly impressive. He now understood why the cavalry was thought of so highly for so many years. It was a glorious sight to see so many men on so many horses.
“Tis Sir Eadwulf, Earl of Kent, the King’s advisor and Liege Lord of all the eastern lands,” the Lady Merwinna said.
“You have good eyes,” Matt said, squinting at the distant men, trying to make out an individual face.
The Lady Merwinna shrugged. “Tis the banner they ride under on any count.”
Matt nodded, noticing the banner for the first time. He dimly remembered that they were used to identify and communicate between different sections of an army during battle. This banner was of a gold dragon, crossed by two swords on a red field, the banner of Lord Eadwulf.
The riders started forward again just as the two Bots dipped from the clouds to the west and roared overhead. The horsemen stopped, many clearly trying to control their frightened mounts, as the planes flew directly over them then rose and began to circle back toward the town, sending back their own signal to the General. It took a spell for the riders to regain control, but when they did they galloped headlong toward Athelney, clearly panicked.
‘Shit,’ Matt thought wondering just what to do. “Stay calm,” he ordered as the horses grew closer, the thundering of the hooves growing alarmingly loud. No one lost control. “Goode, Gardner, please remove yourselves from view, you’re scaring our guests. The Lady Merwinna reports the party to be Lord Eadwulf Sir,” he added and Peebles frowned.
The Lady Merwinna watched as the planes shot off to the north and out of sight, then looked down as the approaching horses took precedence over all else. The locals grew very nervous as the horses galloped closer and still showed no signs of slowing.
“Steady,” Matt repeated, “everyone stay calm,” he added, though at the moment he was anything but. The horses pulled up directly in front of him. The riders clearly agitated.
“Dragon sign!” A tall, dark man said from a top the large gray gelding. He glanced around for aid and instantly noticed that except for the Lady Merwinna; all were strangers. He studied the odd looking men for a few seconds; to a man they were beardless and dressed in strange garb. He glanced about the camp, frowning, then again up into the sky, but the dragons had fled.
“Greetings M’lord,” the Lady Merwinna said with a low curtsy. Matt and his men also bowed in greeting, though everyone of them kept their eyes glued to the group before them.
“Lady Merwinna of Athelney?” The man asked a little haughtily. He’d met her on two previous occasions and she was positive he remembered her despite his words. Merwinna bowed again nevertheless. Sir Eadwulf nodded but was still looking nervously about for the two dragons, absently wondering how all of these people could be so calm in their presence. Surely they saw them! Matt studied the Lord before him. He had short cropped, dark hair, which was something of a rarity in these parts, and a trimmed mustache and beard. His eyes were bright hazel, standing out against his dark features, but they gave nothing away as to what was going on inside the man’s head.
For his part, Eadwulf made note that the strangers surrounded the Lady Merwinna, clearly positioned to protect her. He was surprised to find so many tents surrounding the walled town, and so many strangely helmeted warriors. He took a few seconds to study one of the helmeted men closest to him and was left very uneasy. Then his gaze went to the camp off to the right of Athelney. There were odd things about, things he didn’t understand. He disliked the helmets of these men intensely, for it gave no reading of the face beneath, not even the eyes.
Eadwulf scoffed silently. The view slits must be very, very thin, which would seriously hamper the men’s vision; a definite disadvantage in a fight. The men closest to the Lady Merwinna, however, were without helmets, and as far as he could determine without fear, which was a bad thing, and somewhat of an insult considering they had no heavy horse at their command and were plainly outmatched. In fact, as Eadwulf looked around again he noticed that there were very few horses to be seen at all.
‘Mayhap the dragons ‘ave taken them all,’ Eadwulf thought with dread and checked the heavens once more.
But the sky was clear so he settled down to deal with the strangers. He looked down from his mounted position at them once more. They were large men, but carried no swords. Obviously they were not of royal blood, common foot soldiers all, and no matter their numbers they would not stand for long against his mounted knights.
“Just who be these huscarls?” Lord Eadwulf snapped, regaining his composure somewhat, the dragons forgotten for the time being. “And since when has the Ealdorman allowed gypsies to homestead on his very doorstep?”
From his tone, Matt and Dr. Rice instantly realized they were in for big trouble.
“M’lord,” the Lady Merwinna quickly began with an amused smile Eadwulf did not understand. “May I introduce Mayjor Thane, Docktor Gordon Rice, Ser...”
“Ye lead this rabble?” Lord Eadwulf interrupted, scowling down with an air of authority.
“For the moment,” Matt answered which Eadwulf misunderstood, taking it to mean that the men could break up and move off at any time, and that the Mayjor was only loosely holding them together. The man spoke strangely, though he could be understood.
'Mayhap Irish!' the Earl thought with disdain, but then thought better of it. They were too clean to be Irish.
Matt wished the General would hurry.
“Ye will order yor men
to remove their helms,” Eadwulf demanded. He was confident in his authority. He was still on his horse and backed by fifty of his best knights. He noticed that the Lady Merwinna placed a hand on the leader’s forearm as the one called Rice whispered something in the man’s ear.
“Two minutes Major,” Peebles yelled into Matt’s ear piece, “we’ll be there in two minutes.”
“Perhaps you would care to join us....” the Major started. To Eadwulf and his men he spoke a very strange dialect, one the Lord could not quite place despite having traveled all over England, Ireland, and Scotland.
“These men whilst remove their helms at once,” he repeated, raising his voice though he disliked the necessity. Behind him the rasp of fifty swords being drawn put an exclamation on the order.
“M’lord...” the Lady Merwinna began. She was obviously in league with these brigands and Eadwulf wondered at the fate of the Ealdorman of Somerset.
“Now!” Eadwulf yelled turning an icy glare on the Lady Merwinna. The faces of the men surrounding the noblewoman suddenly went very cold. Surprisingly he detected no fear from any of them, despite the fact that they were surrounded and unarmed. Something in all of these strange men left him anxious, and that raised his anger even more.
“I apologize,” the Major began, much to Lord Eadwulf’s satisfaction, for he was used to people caving before his wishes, “but I cannot at this time comply with that order.”
The Lord’s face went red. “Captain,” he managed to choke out and a large, barrel of a man climbed down from his horse and approached Matt. The man was short and thick, but with powerful arms and shoulders. He strode forward completely confident even though the man he was facing was much larger. He removed a large baton from his belt and with what he felt to be quick, decisive movements, raised it to strike the person offending his Lord.
To Matt, and any of the soldiers that could see the action directly, the attack was slow and awkward. Matt easily sidestepped the blow, and with practiced movements grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted the baton toward the man’s thumb and removed it from his grasp, all while leaving his opponent standing bewildered by his side. Matt threw the baton away and moved back a step to gain room. When the Captain finally became aware of his embarrassing situation he flew into a rage, and began to strike out at Thane with his fists. The man was powerful, but the blows were slow and unsophisticated, and the Major blocked them all very easily. And though Matt was no match for the hand to hand mastery of Sadao or Jefferies, he was a black belt in several forms of martial arts, and technically a master of such combat, as were all the soldiers who remained alive after five years of hard fighting. The Captain’s anger grew and he soon lost all semblance of control. He attacked Matt again, his attacks growing ever cruder. However, he was becoming so vicious that Matt was forced to attack himself, and with two quick blows to the head, he rendered the man unconscious.
“Ye dare strike an officer of the King!” Lord Eadwulf exclaimed with delight as he drew his own sword. He spurred his horse forward, but just as his mount was beginning to charge two loud reports echoed around the town. Eadwulf jerked as a large bee whizzed close by his head and then suddenly his sword snapped in two and the pommel was ripped from his grasp. If that was not strange enough, Arder, his beloved war-horse, lost her footing and started to fall. Eadwulf glanced down surprised, for Arder was normally very sure footed. He instantly realized something was very wrong as a jet of thick red blood erupting from the side of the mare’s head. Seconds later the horse fell over dead, throwing Eadwulf from the saddle. He landed face down and sprawled in the mud at the feet of these strange men.
“Cease fire,” Major Thane and Rice ordered simultaneously. The group all moved back a few steps on instinct, pulling the Lady Merwinna with them. Lord Eadwulf’s knights were in complete confusion, shocked at finding their Lord on the ground, along with their Captain. A few began to move forward to attack these upstarts and protect their leaders.
“Flame,” Matt said quickly. “Let’s contain them.” Almost instantly four separate gouts of flame leaped into the air, surprising the Lady Merwinna who screamed when she felt the heat on her face. It was at that moment that the hummers from the main force topped the hill to the north and roared down upon the scene. A wall of flame shot out in front of Matt and his party, protecting them from further attack. Several squads of soldiers instinctively crisscrossed the perimeter of the knights, effectively sealing them in. It was a good plan, but it didn’t work. The fire, along with the roar of the strange and quickly approaching vehicles, panicked the horses. As a group, the horses bellowed and reared up in fear.
“Cease flame,” Matt yelled, realizing his mistake and compounding it back making another one. Once the flame disappeared it left an avenue of escape and many of the horses immediately bolted for safety. Several of the horses ran off without their riders, who were now on the ground with their Lord, but most of the knights hung on for dear life as their mounts fled in terror. Most of those fleeing were very thankful that their horses were now galloping very fast away from whatever demon spawn infected the town of Athelney. And though they were all sworn to protect their Earl, most would not return, but instead head back toward Shaftesbury then home.
“We have riders spotted....” Matt heard in his ear piece. “Instructions?”
“Let them go,” the Major ordered feeling sick to his stomach. The Bots again roared overhead. “Sergeant Cheun...shoot any weapon drawn on us, but do not...I repeat do not harm any of the knights.”
“Aye Sir,” Cheun answered as the hummers roared around the refugee camp and up toward the eastern gates of Athelney. The grounds were now being monitored by thirteen M60 machine guns.
Major Thane, Dr. Rice and Blish tentatively approached the fallen Lord, but only Sergeant Blish drew his sidearm. Lord Eadwulf, who was uninjured from the fall, paid the soldiers no mind, instead he crawled a short distance and picked up the hilt of his now jagged sword.
“I apologize M’lord,” Matt repeated as sincerely as possible, “but you will not be allowed to harm anyone.”
Sir Eadwulf looked first at Matt, then to the Lady Merwinna, who beamed happily behind him. His expression was blank rather than surprised and then his eyes tracked back down to his broken sword. The meticulously crafted weapon was named Vengeance, and was given to his grandfather by his great grandfather many years ago. Then it was passed to Eadwulf’s own father, and finally to him. It was a mighty sword, and his prize possession. He stood up, his face red with anger, but behind the anger was something entirely unknown to him...fear. ‘Mayhap these be not men at all,’ he thought.
“That will be enough major,” a voice boomed from behind and two new strangers, the biggest yet, appeared behind the Lady Merwinna, and along with them came Sir Æthelred, the Earl of Mercia and the Ealdorman of Somerset.
General Peebles surveyed the scene before him, obviously very angry. Sir Eadwulf was on his knees; his Captain was still unconscious, his face in the mud. There were perhaps another twenty or so knights either standing or sitting in the immediate vicinity, watching the events with wide frightened eyes. Dr. Rice bent and examined the unconscious Captain. His eyes were not dilated and he was breathing normally. The man sputtered and began to come around.
“M’lord,” General Peebles finally said, his voice carrying the air of command. “Please let me apologize also. This was not to happen. Please forgive us. We know of your great importance in this land and to your King. This is most unfortunate. Please, let us sit down and drink, and eat together.”
Sir Eadwulf said nothing for a moment. There was too much here he did not understand…too many fantastical things. Gathering his dignity he slowly stood before this new man. Most of his knights followed his lead and climbed to their feet, a few tried to control what horses remained, the rest just stood and waited, some flashing the signs to ward off evil. No one made the slightest move to help their Lord or to interfere in any way. Men who could breathe fire were either in lea
gue with the devil or God, either way this was not an opponent anyone present wished to fight. Sir Eadwulf felt the same. If these were men, they were men of unbelievable power, and if they were not...well then he feared for his very soul. But Eadwulf knew his knights were watching. Never let them think their Lord is without courage, he thought.
“I will eat with ye,” he replied in his most commanding voice.
“Excellent,” Peebles said. “Perhaps you could select ten of your most important knights to join us,” he suggested.
Eadwulf nodded, very cooperative; he turned and gazed back at his knights. To a man they all stared anxiously at him with a mixture of dread and fear...all but one, Sir Eadric of Norfolk, one of his older knights, who met his eyes with something other than fear.
“I will take only Sir Eadric...” Eadwulf spat with disgust, but was interrupted by a loud groan from his fallen Captain, “and Captain Lochlin,” he added, as his Captain looked up at him confused. “The rest can eat with the women.”
The Lady Merwinna led them all through the streets of Athelney and to the gates of the Manor Hall. The Earl of Mercia and the Ealdorman bowed before Lord Eadwulf, desperate to keep their expressions neutral despite the great amusement they felt. The Earl succeeded, but the Ealdorman was less successful, and Lord Eadwulf stopped to stare at him.
“In league with these devils...eh Ealdorman,” Eadwulf hissed quietly and stared coldly at the minor Nobleman.
“Na M’lord,” the Ealdorman started, wanting to defend his new friends, but Eadwulf held up a hand and continued into the hall.
The meal was tense and very unproductive. Sir Eadwulf remained stiff, closed off and suspicious. Despite his outward calm, he spent most of the meal trying desperately to dominate his fear. He was not accustomed to feeling afraid and it irritated him. It helped little that the Earl, the Ealdorman and all the people of Somerset seemed very at ease with these strangers. The meal was a happy affair filled with song, flirting women and easy laughter, despite his dour presence.
The Temporal Knights Page 24