The next morning it was still raining hard and Sir Eadwulf sent word that their travel day was canceled. Peebles and his men kept to the tents most of the morning but around noontime the rain began to slacken and the sky brightened perceptibly, even though it was still overcast.
“General,” Dr. Rice said unable to hold back his curiosity any longer. “I would really like to go and visit the town. This is the first place we’ve visited with a sizable population and I’d like to see how the people live...what they do.”
Peebles took a deep breath, also curious, but he silently weighed the risks of splitting the group since they obviously couldn’t all go at once and leave the hummers unguarded. He wasn’t really worried about a local coming across the vehicles and by some miracle starting them up; instead he was worried more of petty vandalism or perhaps an accident with one of the weapons.
“We’ll go in groups of five, our hummer first. Two hour trip, and then we’ll return and let the other group explore,” he finally decided. “Perhaps Father Gillian and Sir Oldalf could guide the groups and explain some of the finer points of metropolitan lifestyle.”
Father Gillian bowed slightly. “Yah, I have visited Chisbury on several occasions though I must admit I spent much of me time down south at the church and monastery.”
“Oh, that would be an interesting visit too,” Rice said, clearly excited now that the decision was made to go and he hurried everyone along until they were prepared to meet the people of Chisbury.
On Peebles command, every man wore a sidearm and both Sergeant Sadao and Captain Hersey wore small headsets, which allowed them to communicate between groups. As they were heading out Corporal Jefferies was busy setting up a temporary radio tower on the roof of one of the hummers that would allow them to boost their signal and communicate with Colonel Lemay. Without assistance, the transmitters in the helmets, only had an effective range of about thirty miles over flat even ground.
“We’ll be back in two hours,” Peebles said checking his watch.
“All right then, lead the way,” he told Rice, and they were off.
The town of Chisbury was larger than most of the hamlets they’d moved through in their recent travels though it appeared to be a bit smaller than Kingston. Even so it was still woefully small by modern standards. Uniquely, the town was located at the intersection of three main roads that weaved their way through lower England. Two were ancient tracks and one was built by the Romans, which ran along the southern end of town. Because of the odd intersection, the town had a sporadic feel to it with no real center. But most of the activity seemed to be taking place around a dozen or so buildings built off one of the ancient dirt tracks. The largest building in town was the Drunken Dog Inn, which contained both a tavern and a general store on its lower level. Father Gillian led them on a roundabout tour of the town, visiting every shop or building which was open, they even entered several private dwellings before they realized their mistake. But not one of the villagers complained, and took the intrusions in stride.
Most of the buildings were small, single story affairs, built of wattle and daub or a mixture of clay, mixed straw and cow dung, though a few were larger and built of wood. Wherever they went the floor was beaten earth and covered with dried rushes. They talked with everyone, especially Doctor Rice, who conversed with absolutely everyone he came across. He insisted that the Father take them to visit all the professionals or skilled craftsman of the day, including the weaver, who patiently showed them how to operate an intricate loom that dominated the interior of his home and workshop. They also visited the tanner, the blacksmith and the shoemaker, a very large, happy man who inspected their boots with awe and took a great liking to the General. Finally they visited the mill, which was located on the eastern end town and built on the banks of a large fast moving creek. A large water wheel powered the grindstone, which crushed the local grain into fine brown flour. Of all of the townspeople, only the miller showed any impatience with their group. He was short and for the most part rude, and did not tolerate their presence for long.
“Tis a miller’s right to be so foul,” Father Gillian explained as they made their way back through town, waving at a few of their new friends as they went.
“Why is that?” Peebles asked clearly interested. He’d enjoyed these last few hours immensely, and was very curious about the people who lived in this time and their lifestyles.
“The miller tis verily important, and holds the landowners and cottars in his fists by order of the Lord of these lands. The miller be the only man by law who can grind his Lord’s grain. Tis a mighty lot of power for one man and few can handle its weight with class and dignity.”
“Cottars?”
“They be the poor, beholden to the landowners and the like.”
They walked through the muddy streets and finally made their way back to the tent encampment where Sergeant Moore and his group were anxiously awaiting for their turn.
“Towers finished. I’ve contacted Colonel Lemay and reported in. All’s quiet on his front,” Moore said. “He’d like you to call. Nothing urgent, just wants to check in.”
“All right, you go and have some fun, but Sergeant, keep the group together and keep alert.”
“Yes Sir,” he answered and they were off, Sir Oldalf guiding them.
§
The Lady Ellyn was twenty miles to the southeast of Shaftesbury and finally moving rapidly toward Winchester. She sat next to Trudy in the back of the carriage, looking across at Sir Gospatrick, who insisted on joining them during the recent downpour and had yet to remove himself. Next to him was his stoic friend, Master Ædwin.
They were pushing on to Wilton and would be in Winchester on the following day if the weather held. They’d lost nearly an entire day in the small town of Barnsley due to the weather, but mercifully Lady Ellyn and Trudy were taken in by a nearby Convent, while the men were forced to take rooms in town. Coincidently, Ellyn became very pious in a desperate attempt to escape Sir Gospatrick’s relentless advances. He was making her angry and confused. On one hand, she was enjoying his attention immensely; he made her feel desirable, which was never a bad thing, but it also made her feel guilty. This inharmonious emotional concoction raised her ire, and she took her confusion out on them both, but that did not drive Gospatrick from the carriage. The man was intelligent and funny and made Ellyn laugh on numerous occasions but she was in love with Matt and so tried to ignore Gospatrick as best she could. Thankfully even he ran out of witty things to say after a time, so now sat quietly across from her. Talking or not though, he watched her closely and smiled every time he caught her eye. She tried not to look at him, which was near impossible since he was sitting directly across from her. Finally she sighed.
“Do we have a place arranged to stay in Wilton?” she asked Master Ædwin, pointedly looking directly into his face so as to avoid the stare of her pursuer.
“Yah, M’lady. We’ll be staying at the Flying Harpy. Tis warm enough though not so nice as the Black Boar.”
“Mayhap ye will dine with us tonight,” Sir Gospatrick piped in. “Master Alcott, the cook of the Harpy, makes an extraordinary fish pudding.”
Ellyn was quiet for moment, thinking fast, but she could find no good reason to decline so she finally nodded to Sir Gospatrick. “That wold be quite pleasant, Sir.”
“Please call me....” he started but paused as a gust of wind buffeted the carriage, which rocked under the force of the onslaught. The curtains, which were tied down to keep out the rain, broke loose and whipped about the interior. Both Ædwin and Trudy fumbled to control them but the wind was now howling down from the northern hillsides. Finally Ædwin managed to rein in the wet curtain on his side, but before Trudy gained control the soaked fabric whipped out and cracked against the Lady Ellyn’s cheek, like a twisted bathroom towel. Ellyn’s head snapped back from the force of the blow and slammed against the hard wooden seat behind her. Without a sound she slumped to the floor. Rain continued to pour in th
rough the open window, covering Ellyn’s face with tiny droplets, but dazed as she was she did not know or care.
“Mum!” Trudy yelled with alarm and abandoned her attempts to control the curtains, leaving the job to the two gentlemen travelers. “Mum,” Trudy repeated as Ellyn came around, stunned but otherwise unharmed. Sir Gospatrick finally managed to corral the unruly curtains back onto their ties.
“Heavens, but ye’ve been dealt quite a blow,” Gospatrick said as he helped her back into her seat. Her left cheek was an angry red where the wet cloth had snapped against it. It still stung terribly and her eyes were glistening from the pain.
Sir Gospatrick looked at her face, then over to his friend Ædwin, who couldn’t help but chuckle at the girl’s plight. “No offense M’lady, but it looks as if ye have been delivered a mighty slap. Tis many times I’ve seen Sir Gospatrick’s face struck red in the presence of a Lady, but never the other way about…methinks God may have made some mistake.”
Both Ellyn and Trudy were shocked at the notion that God could make a mistake, but soon realized that the normally serious gentleman was making a jest at his friend’s expense. But Sir Gospatrick took it in stride and even Ellyn had to laugh at her predicament. Painful though it was, the incident loosened the mood of the travelers considerably, and soon they were talking on all manner of subjects.
“Mayhap ye’ll tell us now of the gallant strangers to the west?” Ædwin asked many happy hours later and Ellyn immediately sobered. If Sir Gospatrick would have asked the very same question she would have undoubtedly become indignant and silent. But she’d grown to like Master Ædwin over the past few days, and knew that he was a serious fellow and not prone to teasing lightly. The question was not asked frivolously but out of true curiosity.
“Wot wold ye know?” she replied, not really wanting to blurt out her love for them, and of her broken heart.
“From whence they come to this land?”
Ellyn shook her head. “They say tis a far off land that lay across the ocean to the west...a land called Ammerica. There was a terrible war, and all were killed save these men who fled to Somerset.”
“Ammerica...” Sir Gospatrick said slowly, testing the word. “Tis an unknown land. But the letters from the Earl of Mercia speak of mighty deeds, saying these men be powerful fighters and swordsmen?”
“Yah, mighty fighters, but they carry na swords,” she answered and noticed Ædwin’s disappointed look and shivered. “They fight with strange, powerful weapons and have maacheens that do strange and wondrous things. You’d na believe me if’n I told ye...but I flew with them, through the air like a bird, on a flying boat.”
Both men stared at her stunned. Gospatrick couldn’t believe his ears, while Master Ædwin just nodded as if the statement explained everything. Sir Gospatrick, his friend now for over ten years, had a nasty habit of being attracted to loons, and apparently this girl was no different.
“Ye say....” Gospatrick started but stopped when he saw Ellyn’s jaw line harden.
“Tis true M’lord,” Trudy spoke up, reading their expressions. “Twold na have believed it meself if’n I hadn’t seen it with me own eyes. Powerful afeared was the whole grounds when the dragon boat flew overhead, and me vary mistress caught inside, waving and shouting like a madwoman. Many thought it an evil trick of the dragon, carrying the mistress over the town before eatin’ her, but if’n they’d have looked they could tell dat M’lady was verily happy. Wot dragon wold make its catch look happy?”
The two men still remained skeptical, but Ellyn just sighed and rolled her eyes at their stubbornness. Then, with a flash of insight, she realized that this was exactly what she would be facing at Winchester. Who would believe her, until they saw with their own eyes?
“Tis a hard thing I know, but flying is wondrous. Beyond anything except....” Ellyn stopped herself, and felt her face grow red.
“Yah, M’lady,” Sir Gospatrick said encouragingly, accurately guessing her train of thought. “Please go on.”
“Tis nothing. Ye’d na believe me anyhow,” she answered, her embarrassment changing to anger.
“Oh on that score I just might be so inclined,” he answered still amused. Master Ædwin, however, was not so amused. He watched Ellyn and her maid verily closely during the telling, and could see na sign of deceit in either.
‘Mayhap it be as the letters to the Lady Ealhswith claim and these strangers could fly through the air. Did na seem possible, but the Earl of Mercia was na bumble headed fool, easily tricked or easy to trust.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking, knowing he would get nothing more from Ellyn this day and after a moment he even dozed, growing oblivious to the verbal sparring going on inside the carriage.
§
Farther to the west the weather was still quite gloomy. The storm had passed, but in its place were low level gray clouds, which brought light rain, and seemed to stretch to the very ends of the Earth. The Earl’s funeral was not held until late in the afternoon, three full days after the Countess’ arrival. The delay was necessary to allow her knights to ride in with her sister Æthelgifu. The men of Mercia were wet, tired and miserable, but happy to know that their Lady had survived the flight in the dragon boat. They could hardly believe it when she claimed to have arrived at the Ealdorman’s just before the storm hit, and many of her knights eyed the strangers with a mixture of fear and wonder. It was only after the men were housed and settled that Leoforic realized something was wrong.
“Mother, where’s Stan? Da’ sent him to ye with a message afore his death,” the boy asked as a wave of panic swept over his young body.
Æthelflæd frowned, for her eldest son had not arrived in Tamworth.
“When? When did he send him?” Giffu snapped. Her sister was already a mess and didn’t need a missing son to add to her woes.
“Five…na six nights ago,” Leoforic replied, tears welling in his eyes. “Ma, where’s Stan?” He asked again.
Æthelflæd’s knees grew weak and she reached out and placed a hand on the edge of the bed for support.
“Ye be sure?” Giffu asked.
Leoforic nodded and started to cry. His aunt, though she was only five years older, went to comfort him. She smiled weakly and hugged him tight.
“Mayhap he went to the King instead,” Giffu suggested hopefully, but Leoforic just shook his head.
“Na…Sir Eadwulf forbid it, ‘nd Da gave his word,” he explained. “Mama, we need to find Stan…he could be hurt or in trouble.”
Æthelflæd nodded and sat down on the bed, feeling faint. “Come Leoforic,” she said softly and he broke loose from Giffu and went to her. She hugged him fiercely for a moment then released him. “We must be strong. After the service I will send out Costance to search.”
“All right mother,” Leoforic agreed over a sour, churning stomach.
The service was a solemn affair. The ground was muddy, and the wind and drizzle were cold. Friar Padstone performed the rites since Father Gillian was away with the General. Because of the weather he made the service elegant, but brief. Most of the nobles were able to huddle under a large awning the Americans had erected over the burial site. It kept them relatively dry, if not warm.
All through the service Lemay was anxious; Æthelstan’s disappearance nagged at him and he hoped it wasn’t a portent for the coming days. He assured the Countess that his men would aid in the search for her son.
But on a happier note, the General had arrived at Chisbury without incident, and they’d made radio contact on several occasions. His commander was safe, but still the feeling of danger persisted. Through the years of war with the Skawps the Colonel had grown to trust such feelings, and he almost sent the planes up despite the low ceiling and steady rain, but in the end refrained. The Bots were not suited for such weather. Even so, Lemay felt that it was important to show Sir Eadwulf just how far they could reach. The man was dangerous, of that the Colonel had no doubts. As of 0900 this morning the General was unsure whether they
would be spending another day in Chisbury or moving on toward Reading. The decision would be entirely up to Sir Eadwulf.
The General reported that the rain was only falling lightly in Chisbury, so he was inclined to believe they would be moving on, but that was the last time the Colonel had heard from him. Lemay took the General’s silence to mean that they were now on the move, but of course he couldn’t be sure. He was positive however, that it was the uncertainty of the situation that was agitating him so. The Colonel frowned through the entire funeral and could hardly wait to reestablish contact with his superior and friend.
After the service, he sent several hummer squads out with the dozen or so Mercian knights that were hunting for Æthelstan, and silently wished once more for better weather. The Bots could scour the area much faster than men on the ground. For the Countess’ sake he hoped the boy’s horse was lame, but he suspected not. Æthelgifu and her escort traveled down the main road from Tamworth and had not come across him. It certainly didn’t look good.
Lemay went through the burial feast distant and distracted, though he did enjoy looking at the Countess and her younger sister. They were definitely a pair of beauties. Even in her grief, the Countess was poised and lovely and Lemay was surprised that she handled her loss so well. She sat at the far end of the table, between Murphy Giles and her son Leoforic and kept at least an outward appearance of interest in what was being said around her. The Colonel was only half paying attention when Matt explained to Sir Ceorl of Repton, a young knight who’d arrived with the Countess’ party, that their true leader was on his way to meet the King at Rochester with the Earl…
“He be meetin’ the King ye say?” Sir Ceorl interrupted with a raised eyebrow and a quick nervous laugh.
Matt nodded, not really understanding. “Yes,” Matt confirmed. Sir Ceorl now had Colonel Lemay’s full attention.
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