“Come ye swine,” Lochlin demanded and made to dart to the space where Lemay had last spoken, but he slammed his shin into a large rock and went down. To his credit he was up very quickly, swinging his sword against the possible attack.
“That must have hurt,” Lemay said now on his right. Lochlin spun again as Lemay moved once more, and then he knelt and picked up a fist-sized rock from the cave floor. He was about fifteen feet from the man when he wound up and threw the rock. It missed by inches and struck the cave wall directly behind the Captain. Lemay moved again and found another rock. This time he aimed at the man’s body and was rewarded when the rock struck Lochlin hard in the left side, cracking a rib. Lemay continued to circle at a safe distance, watching as the knight began to panic. He picked up another rock, as Lochlin lost his head and threw his knife. The man was facing directly away from the Colonel as he threw.
“Not even close,” Lemay said and again the Captain spun around. This time the rock hit him directly in the mouth, shattering most of his front teeth. His head flew back in a blinding flash of pain and he went to the ground, dazed. Lemay waited.
“They were all rotten anyway,” the Colonel said not moving, watching the man before him slowly sit up and shake out the cobwebs. Lochlin knew he was in deep trouble now. Somehow the man before him could see through the black. He shakily got to his feet, turning in the darkness. He heard Lemay’s approach just as someone grabbed hold of his sword wrist…someone very strong. He swung his free fist and hit the Colonel’s armor before catching an elbow to the face. Lochlin staggered and was only vaguely aware of his arm being twisted and locked in place. He was forced down quickly and his elbow broke when it hit the Colonel’s knee. His sword clattered loudly on the floor of the cave.
Lochlin cried out and swung again, now angry. But Lemay easily caught his other arm, twisted and broke it as well.
“Piss on ye!” Lochlin yelled, all but helpless from the pain. “Death ‘ill take ye…” was all the Captain managed before the Colonel’s iron fingers found his throat and ripped it out. Lochlin gasped and went down, kicking and squirming, trying to draw breath but not succeeding. Lemay kicked the dying man in the head before turning to leave. Hernandez was standing not thirty feet away, accompanied by Dosland, Starling, and what looked to be Sir Elid with a helmet on. Private Starling was leading the young knight about like a babe.
“Ye can see as day!” Sir Elid said, utterly astounded and completely converted, his voice coming through the headset in Lemay’s helmet.
“Yes,” the Colonel answered.
“Ye must take the horses...they be yor’n now,” Elid added and began walking gingerly to fetch the still nervous animals. However on impulse, he stopped directly by the Colonel’s side and knelt before him. Lemay looked down at the man, confused for a moment.
“I wold join ye,” Sir Elid announced very seriously.
“Ye would join us?” Lemay asked with a grim smile, unconsciously mimicking the man.
“Yah,” Sir Elid answered.
“Good,” he answered and grabbed the man by the arm and helped him to his feet. “Tomorrow Private Starling will set you up with a uniform, and your real training will begin. Is that satisfactory to you Private Elid?”
“Yah Sir,” Elid said and imitated a salute exactly and from that moment on he became the first soldier from the ninth century.
“Then fetch my horses and meet us outside,” the Colonel said with a smile of his own.
“The girls?” Lemay asked as he moved toward the cave opening.
“Already in the hummers keeping warm,” Hernandez answered as Starling went to help his new trainee. “They seem no worse for wear, chatting and thanking us. Hard to believe they could take something like this in stride.”
“Hardy stock,” Lemay answered. “Let’s get back as quickly as possible. We leave tonight for Rochester.”
§
It was nearly two hours before everything was ready for their departure. General Peebles and his men were still struggling through the dark and mud about a mile outside Rochester, when Colonel Lemay took Major Thane aside.
“You be extremely careful Major,” the Colonel said intensely. “We’re now splitting into three groups. The situation is very precarious and we’re vulnerable. We need to get tough and claw our way out of this or the Skawps will have us for dinner again.”
“Do things ever go as planned?” Matt answered, anxious for his General but not truly worried about his own situation at Athelney. Lemay was leaving him only two commandos, Sergeant Dunn and Private Gomez, plus Robertson, Blish and the three members of his flight crew. That made a total of eight men, but with their weapons and the walled town at their disposal, they could off an army of the times for months if necessary. The Colonel was also leaving both Bots and would rely on bugs for reconnaissance. They were counting on speed and surprise.
“Take care of yourself,” the Colonel added as the Ealdorman, Lady Merwinna and the Countess walked up to them. “We’ll report in every hour on the hour.”
Matt nodded. “Be careful yourself Colonel. I’m among friends.”
“Aye, ye need na fear ‘bout these men. We be takin’ good care of them,” the Ealdorman said with all seriousness, happy to be of service to these new friends who’d done so much for him. The Colonel smiled at him absently, his mind occupied.
He would be taking 331 men along and a good deal of ammo and gas, all in twelve trucks and ten Humvees. Matt and his team would look after the remaining three hummers and twenty-seven trucks, which were all filled with weapons, spare parts, gasoline, and of course the tactical nukes. They also left behind the half-tracks and the two tow vehicles for the alien ship. Nearly all their supplies would be in the hands of just eight men, and the Colonel cringed at the risk he was taking, but in war, any war, risks were necessary.
The Colonel was also taking along several locals, notably Sir Ældwin, whose daughter they’d saved only a few hours ago, Sir Elid, who was now a soldier, Harden, the Ealdorman’s son and Sir Ceorl, a knight loyal to the LadyÆthelflæd, Countess of Mercia. Ceorl would be guiding them to Rochester, having been there several times in the past year.
They finally loaded into their vehicles and headed out just after 1900 hours, the locals were still a little shocked that the Americans would be traveling at night, but they also realized that the General was in trouble. The Colonel planned to be on the move until midnight. It gave them a full five hours. He hoped to be well past Chippenham by that point. They would stop and camp in the open along the road…and on full alert. They would get what sleep they could and be on the move again before sunrise.
Sir Ceorl, at twenty-four, was tall, slender and sported flowing blonde hair. He was a striking young man and his image would have been right at home on the cover of any romance novel. Despite his good looks, he was also in line to be the next Captain of the Guard for the Countess and her family. He was bit young for the honor, but his father, also a knight bound to the late Earl, had taught him well. Ceorl thought that it was foolhardy to leave in the dark of night, but he was excited to be going with these strange and deadly men. Over the past few days, Sir Elid had regaled him with wild tales about these strangers, stories full of exploits…full of wonder. So he kept his own council and stepped into the hummer and sat next to the Colonel. This would be his first ride in one of the noisy macheenes and he took a quick moment to whisper a prayer. Inside, the vehicle was surprisingly comfortable and warm, and when the driver, Private Dosland flipped on the headlights, the young knight was astounded by just how far he could see. Then they were off.
The road to Bath was still damp from the rain two days prior, but it was no longer muddy and presented no real obstacles for either the hummers or the trucks, and they were able to keep their speed right at twenty-five miles an hour. Sir Ceorl was surprised by the speed of the magic wagons, though they were moving no faster than a good solid horse, but he was simply astonished that they could maintain it mile after mil
e. He was even more astonished when they reached Bath, a fifty mile journey, in just over two hours. It would take two good days on horseback to reach the town. But they didn’t even slow down, instead they cruised straight through the sleepy village, waking dogs and people alike.
The Colonel, who remained silent for much of the journey to this point, suddenly began to ask a great deal of questions about the town of Rochester. Ceorl answered as best he could; closing his eyes at times to visualize the town and surrounding countryside. The Colonel was astonished by the memory and sense of detail the young nobleman displayed. He asked many strange questions, most of which Sir Ceorl could not guess why he needed such information, but he answered plainly, and even asked a few of his own. Time past quickly and when they reached the Pately Bridge, which spanned the river Avon, Ceorl could no longer hide his growing astonishment.
“Tis na possible. Twold take a good rider four strong horses to cover such a distance at speed,” he insisted, knowing that they’d only been traveling for a few hours. He now realized that they would make Chisbury that very night.
“Ho,” he said turning to the Colonel, whose face was dim in the darkness, only lit by the reflection of the headlights and the dim dashboard lights. “These...wagons, how far can they go, nigh forever?”
“No,” the Colonel answered with a laugh. “Not forever, but they are well made and will carry us all over this country many times.”
When they rolled into the large town of Chisbury, only three hours after leaving the Ealdorman’s Manor Hall, Sir Ceorl was no longer surprised. The same could not be said for the Colonel and his men, for the town of Chisbury was still very much awake though it was just after ten in the evening. Colonel Lemay was under the assumption that everyone in these times settled down within a few hours after sunset. It was clear however, that this town, which was quite a bit larger than any they had yet encountered, did have something of a night life. People were milling about on the streets, and lanterns were burning brightly in many of the taverns and inns. As they rolled slowly through the town a good number of townsfolk stepped forward to greet them. And though the Colonel detected mostly curiosity and enthusiasm, there were also a few fearful expressions in the crowd.
“Private, let’s stop of the far side of town and stretch our legs…see if anyone has anything interesting to say about the General,” Lemay said.
“Aye Sir,” Dosland answered.
After they were stopped and prepared their position against an attack, the Colonel, along with Starling, Dosland and Otsaka, walked back into the thriving town, accompanied by Sir Elid and Ceorl. They were greeted warmly and many of the locals asked after the General and Dr. Rice. The Colonel and his men answered the questions as quickly and politely as possible, and it didn’t take them long to determine that when the General passed through the town, all was well. Despite numerous offerings for accommodations, the Colonel refused to stay and to the astonishment of the people of Chisbury announced that they were off to Rochester; though it was now well into the night.
Even Sir Ceorl was surprised, but only for an instant, and it finally dawned on him that they might get all the way to Reading, though it still be many miles farther to the east. Normally, it would take an army a full four days to move from Somerset to Chisbury, though a fast rider with many mount changes could make it in two…mayhap one, but it would take a mighty rider.
Just outside of Chisbury they hit the Roman road and their speed increased dramatically. Rochester was still over a hundred miles away but the road was solidly built and would reduce their travel time significantly. Lemay ordered their speed increased to thirty-five, then forty, then forty-five before finally settling on fifty. There were bumpy areas but for the most part the ride was smooth and quick. They reached and drove past Reading in a little under an hour before they finally stopped just short of London when the road suddenly turned once more to dirt and mud.
“You want to pull off for the night Colonel?” Private Dosland asked as the caravan idled on the edge of the roadway.
The Colonel remained quiet for a moment and then started as Lieutenant Otsaka rapped his knuckles on the window.
“We’ve made great time Colonel…that road was a godsend.”
Lemay nodded. “How big is London at this time?”
Otsaka frowned. “Hell if I know,” he answered and looked to Sir Elid who shrugged and then to Sir Ceorl.
“How many people in London?”
“London….ah Lundenwic,” he finally said but also shrugged. “Many…”
“Hang on,” the Lieutenant said and moved back down the caravan. Five minutes later he returned. “The computers are telling us maybe five thousand…maybe less.”
“No shit,” Lemay answered. “We could be in Rochester in another hour or so then.” He glanced at Otsaka and then Dosland.
“Let’s do it,” the private answered and both his superiors concurred. Less than a minute later they were once more on the move.
It took them just under two hours. Though the people of London were mostly asleep at one in the morning, the roads through the town were horrendous and at times very narrow. One of the trucks even took down a porch roof as it squeezed through one of the tighter sections. Luckily, the citizens of the town, those that were awake, kept hidden and well away from the noisy monstrosities rolling past their homes.
Sir Ceorl warned them when they were within a mile of Rochester, and Lemay ordered the caravan off the road and led the group up and over a large hill. There, they found a small grove of massive oak trees and made camp under their enormous branches. They hid the vehicles as best they could, but the trees were spaced well apart to give room for their prodigious canopies. In all, the trip took just over eight hours, but they’d made it in a single day. The three locals, Sir Ceorl, Harden and Sir Elid stood together still a little shocked that they were already outside Rochester. They expected the Americans to make camp, catch what sleep they could and wait for the morning. But this was not to be so. Instead they heard Colonel Lemay barking orders even though everyone seemed to be working on something and Ceorl wondered if the strange men ever tired.
“Corporal Garraty,” the Colonel yelled as he supervised the placement of the trucks and hummers around the enormous tree trunks. He wanted all avenues of approach covered by at least three high powered machine guns. If the Earl managed to launch an attack their way during the rescue attempt, they would pay very, very dearly.
“Yes Sir.”
“I want a bug up and flying over Rochester in ten minutes…and get Sir Ceorl, he has a remarkably detailed memory of the fortress layout and of the town itself. He’ll help you with your orientation,” he ordered and then moved off without waiting for an answer. “Let’s get a safety perimeter established and I want eyes on that road at all times...let’s have no surprises people.”
Sir Ceorl, for his part, was every bit as impressed with the speed and efficiency of the soldiers as he had been with the speed of their vehicles. He knew something of fighting and fighting men, and understood that it was no easy task to get them to work together as a unit without a lot of complaining, backbiting, and unwanted advice. It was especially true when the men were not directly in the heat of battle, but these Americans worked together as if they had been born to do so, and absolutely no one questioned the orders of Colonel Lemay. Sir Ceorl was captivated by the energy and discipline displayed though it was well into the night. He was standing slack jawed in the middle of camp, mesmerized by the well orchestrated activities going on around him, when the man named Garraty approached him.
“Sir, when was the last time you were in Rochester?” the Corporal asked and pulled out a neat little book with perfectly white pages, and some sort of strange quill. Sir Ceorl eyed the notebook enviously for a brief moment.
“About a year ago...na, mayhap it twas closer to half,” the knight answered, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he reached out and took the little book from Garraty. It was very well
made with a fine twist of metal near the top of the book to hold all the little white pages in place but also allowed for rapid turning, and it fit in the palm of your hand.
“Most excellent,” Sir Ceorl exclaimed and handed it back to the Corporal. Then he began to recall all he could about the town and the Earl’s fortress, which was located about half a mile south of the town on a steep hill. The fortress was called Rovescester, and Sir Ceorl remembered that the view from the wooden ramparts was indeed grand, quite like looking down on the whole of Kent. He talked on and watched as Garraty scribbled down all his recollections nearly as quickly as the knight could utter them, and though Sir Ceorl could not read the man’s writing, he did not doubt that Garraty was able to decipher the scratch.
“Does this road go directly to town?”
“Yah.”
“Does it go on directly to the fortress?”
“Na, it goes on to Canterbury, but there’s a track that leads up to Rovescester,” Sir Ceorl explained.
“How many gates does Rov…Rovischester have? Are there large trees around the fortress? Is the castle exposed on all sides, or does it back to a cliff, a river, or other natural barrier? How many men will the castle hold? Will the town’s people fight if Sir Eadwulf is attacked?” On and on the questions went until Garraty was sure he had all the information Sir Ceorl possessed. Garraty was finally satisfied and smiled at the knight from Warwick, who was still dazed by the thoroughness of the soldier before him. He was sure that his Lord, Sir Æthelred would have just charged forward and immediately lay siege to the enemy and then asked questions later.
“Thanks for your help,” the Corporal said sincerely, and on impulse reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out another small notebook. He handed it to Sir Ceorl. “Here…for you.”
Sir Ceorl took the notebook gingerly, as if it were gold.
The Temporal Knights Page 39