The Temporal Knights

by Richard D. Parker

  He waved his thanks after receiving archaic directions to Mortehoe. The road he was traveling led to Pilton, no road actually led to Mortehoe, which was much smaller and located farther to the south. The locals gave directions easily enough, but they left Captain Hersey uneasy about trusting them. But in the end he had little choice if he wanted to see Hester again, so after traveling a mile or so out of town he turned left off the road after passing a lone oak with a white boulder three paces to its right and headed to the southwest. He continued on across the countryside, acutely aware of the smell of the ocean, though he had yet to see it. He was getting close. Once off the road he drove very carefully though the hummer was made for such duty and had little difficulty with the rolling grasslands of the area, still large boulders and sharp rock formations often appeared out of nowhere, strewn about like toys in the yard. The smell of the sea grew stronger as he traveled but it wasn’t until he reached the top of an unusually large hill that he got his first glimpse of the sea beyond.

  The view was stunningly beautiful, with the ocean in the distance beyond an endless line of towering cliffs. He pulled to a stop and without turning off the hummer climbed out to get a better look around. He could see no signs of life anywhere, no buildings, no roads and no signs. It was as if he were the only man left on earth and it made him feel small, but somehow happy. He gazed to the south and then far below his position, almost due west; he caught movement in the open field below. Hersey studied the area for a moment and then broke into a large grin and hustled back to the vehicle. He pulled a set of binoculars out and set to scanning the area below him.

  It took a moment but finally he zeroed in on a group of travelers, perhaps a mile away. He recognized the trio instantly. It was Hester and her two small boys, red hair evident even from this distance. She was walking hand in hand with one of the boys, Hersey couldn’t tell which, while the other was just up ahead of them, chasing something. Hersey smiled. She looked dignified, happy and dignified, walking as she was, a lone brave woman with her two children. Even from so far away Hester was a vision and Hersey found his eyes growing misty. He blinked away the moisture and studied the tiny figures for another long minute. The woman moved so easily through the tall grass, so gracefully and it made him realize that humans were made for walking.

  Even so, he wasn’t going to abandon his ride and run after them. He raced back to the hummer and carefully started down the hill. The wind was blowing strongly off the sea, so they didn’t hear his approach until he was quite close. The scene before him changed quickly from idyllic to abject terror as they turned to face the threat from behind. Hester gathered her boys quickly to her and it was clearly evident that they could not see him through the reflection of the windshield. They huddled, cowering together, until he stopped the hummer nearly twenty feet from them, detesting their fear. Hersey once more stepped from the vehicle and was overjoyed when their fear changed quickly to excitement, and smiles. His eyes met Hester’s and he knew he’d made the right choice coming. He moved forward to greet and embrace her but was suddenly rushed by the two boys. Lawson, or Dwennon, he didn’t know which; climbed up onto his back, while the other hugged his leg. He carried the two, only limping a bit from the one attached to his leg, over to their mother, and then she too came and embraced him, kissing him hard and throwing her arms around his neck. They all fell into the grass together laughing. They kissed again, while the boys laughed and watched.

  “I was thinking you might like a ride home,” Hersey finally said with a smile.

  “Yahoo!” Both boys yelled, for they were very tired of walking, their exhaustion however did not keep them from running quickly to the hummer. Hester was not so quick to accept, however.

  “Ye took yor sweet time, Thomas...we only be another hour or so walkin’,” she said with fake indignation.

  “Well, if you would rather walk...”

  “Na...na, but ye must promise na to go too fast.”

  “I promise,” he said and led her over to the still running vehicle. He opened the passenger door and moved the boys into the back, where they fidgeted with barely controlled excitement.

  “I be glad ye did na go to all thee way to Rochester with the others, Thomas,” she said shyly, wanting him to realize what his attention meant to her.

  Hersey frowned then smiled. “Ah, but I did go...and came back.”

  Hester looked at him confused, wondering why he was playing with her, but then suddenly realized he was not.

  “Forsooth?”

  “Yes, Eadwulf is dead and we now hold Rochester, the castle and the town.”

  “Good,” she said with a confused frown. “Tis na an easy thing to understand.”

  “Your carriage, M’lady,” he said with a flourish and a bow. Hester giggled and nervously stepped into the machine. The boys had ridden in a hummer on the day of Ellyn’s flight, but Hester was cautious and did not. She watched as Hersey moved around the front of the vehicle, struck again by his great size and dark skin. He was a handsome man even so, though very different from any she’d known. She smiled at him as he took his place behind the wheel.

  “Na too fast now,” she warned.

  “Fast! Fast!” the boys yelled from the back. Hersey laughed and started away, too fast for Hester’s taste and too slow for the boys. In any case they were home after only a few minutes.

  Home was a small squat building, made mostly of stone, with a thatched roof of mud and grass. Directly beyond it was a towering white cliff and then the deep blue of the Irish Sea. There were pens for animals and a small hut alongside but Hersey saw no livestock of any kind. There was one fair-sized window and a small door that faced the sea, and on the back side there were two smaller windows, all without glass. At the moment all the windows were closed up tight with thick wooden shutters. Hersey pulled the hummer around to the front of the building and stopped and gazed out across the ocean. The Mannings all climbed out as Hersey paused to feel the sun on his face and smell the clean, salty air. It was remarkable, pleasant and strange. He’d grown up and spent most of his life in the Midwest, well away from the sea. Oh, he’d visited the ocean on many occasions and always felt the same awe, wonder, and happiness. Today was no different.

  “Lads, ye go and find the stock,” Hester said and would have none of their protests. “We turned them loose when the Magistrate from Mortehoe came to warn us of the Danes,” she explained to Hersey, who was staring at her.

  “How far is Mortehoe?”

  “Tis na far, an hour’s walk to the north...in that thing it wold take na time at a’tall. Come ye can help with the bread,” she added and led him to the house.

  The door was impossibly low, only about five foot in height and even Hester had to duck a little to go through the frame. Hersey, who was just over six foot tall, had to bend over considerably. He worried momentarily that the ceiling would be so low he wouldn’t be able to stand upright but he needn’t have bothered. The ceiling was a good six inches higher than his head in the small kitchen, but opened up to the rafters near the hearth. The place was small but cozy and every square inch was put to some use. There were two stone fireplaces, one in the large room and one in the kitchen. In total the main floor was no more than four hundred square feet but above the kitchen hung a loft where the family obviously slept all together. Hester left the door open for the light and swung open the shutters of all the windows until it was relatively bright inside. The floor was dirt, but there was a thick layer of straw down to keep out the chill of the damp sea air.

  “It’s cozy,” Hersey said and meant it.

  “Yah. Come now let’s get started or there’ll be nothing to eat this evening, and the boys are powerfully hungry.”

  Hersey did as he was told, letting Hester order him about, first bringing in wood and then starting a fire before helping her knead the bread. It was surprisingly hard work fixing a meal directly from scratch, but Captain Tom Hersey found that he loved every minute of it.

  Chap
ter Fifteen

  Three Toes Erdwine rode hard and fast out of the hill town of Epsom, where he’d changed to a fresh horse. He had a fine mount beneath him now and it would take one to get him to Rochester and Sir Eadwulf before all was lost. The ride, which began at Winchester, could be made in as little as six hours with four strong horses, but this trip was now stretching to near fifteen. For the first leg of the trip Three Toes rode through the dark of night and pushed his first two mounts nearly to the breaking point. He galloped along the old roman road before striking east on a much older track. He raced through many a small village without stopping but as luck would have it a good, strong mare miss stepped leagues outside Eashing and he had to make his way to the next town on foot. And while no one south of Eorforwic could touch him on horseback, as his name suggested he was much less nimble a foot. All three toes on his right foot were aching something awful when he finally limped into Epsom. The fall had cost precious time.

  King Alfred cautiously moved from Winchester to Shaftesbury three days prior but when news that the Boneless had landed in Bridport reached him, the King quickly decided he could wait no more. Word had it that the Danes sacked and burned the coastal town in retaliation for the death of Ubba on the Lizard. Locals claimed the raid was led by Ivarr himself, who was enraged beyond reason and was moving up the coast toward Exeter to exact more revenge. King Alfred quickly realized that this may be the chance to trap his enemy after all these years. But the King was cautious and hesitated to move down on the Lizard without an army at his back, least he be trapped as well. The Boneless was nothing if not crafty. Thus he would not be leaving Shaftesbury without his warlord Sir Eadwulf at his back, especially with the still unknown Americans to the north. Eadwulf would come, Alfred was sure and perhaps together they could finally smash the infamous Danish raider once and for all.

  Three Toes knew he had to get to Sir Eadwulf quickly before the Boneless took his plunder and was gone. Sir Eadwulf would march west, of that neither Erdwine nor his King had any doubts. Up to this point Alfred would not allow Sir Eadwulf and his army west of the Avon, at least not south of the Thames. But given the chance, both men were sure that the Earl of Kent would waste little time taking advantage of the situation. Thank gods for the King’s daughter, Æthelflæd, the Lady of Mercia, who would be pushing down from the north to keep an eye on the Earl as he was keeping an eye on the King. Even Eadwulf would think twice about treachery with her army at his back. Three Toes pushed his mount faster still, worried that the King would become impatient and move down to face the Boneless alone. There was little he could do now for the people of Bridport, except avenge them.

  This leg of the trip was the longest, but Erdwine refused to hold back, wanting to make up for lost time. He knew the brave, strong animal beneath him might die from the exertion, but all speed was needed now. But Three Toes had a good feel for the animals he rode and considered himself to be the best rider in all of Wessex. As he rode he became part of the horses that strained beneath him. He could instinctively gauge their strength or lack of, and knew when they would tire and when they could go no farther. This one now was a wild one, proud and strong, and would not quit until death was all that was left for her. It would be a true shame to lose one such as this. But on he rode, through Croydon, a small trading post and ferry stop on the Medway River, and once across, the stretch drive to Rochester. He’d ridden this path many times before, but never for a cause so dire. His bones and muscles were beginning to ache mightily at the strain he was putting on his own body.

  ‘Twold na be long now,’ he thought as the sun rose in his face, and he charged the last few miles to Rovescester. He was so tired. It would be good to rest, and he actually smiled as he topped the ridge which finally brought the Earl’s fortress in sight. He continued to pound closer for several hundred yards before his brain registered that something was very different. There was a large glistening tower of some unknown purpose rising high above Rovescester. It soared above the mighty keep, rising nearly to the heavens, and there were many strange beasts moving in and out of the main gate. Finally, Three Toes pulled his spent mount to a stop, where the horse snorted loudly, slick with sweat. From his vantage point, he could see many oddly dressed men milling about the gates of the fortress and in the town itself. There were many extraordinary things about that he did not understand. Rovescester did not have the feel of Sir Eadwulf anymore. Everywhere people were moving about with purpose, and the ever-present bodies that hung from the parapets were gone, as were the crow’s nests and the scaffolding on the far side of the main gate. Erdwine was at a loss. He knew that his horse was very near its end, mayhap a mile farther, mayhap two, and then the animal would collapse. Some unknown sense told him that Sir Eadwulf was no longer the Lord at Rovescester, but what could he do? Alfred needed an army at his back, and if he turned away now the King definitely would not get it. But if he continued...

  His decision was made for him as five unnatural beings materialized out of the very earth on either side of the road. They were large and faceless, but moved about as men do. Three Toes’ first thought was of forest ogres, the kind his grandmother had sworn by in his youth and he shivered with fear. The horse beneath him though, once stopped, would go no farther and as the strange beings approached Three Toes’ fear grew so great that his own spent body could take no more, and he fainted dead away and fell to the ground.

  When he awoke an hour later, Erdwine was surrounded by men…just men, but he knew none of them, and for certain Sir Eadwulf was not present.

  “Hallo, I be Sir Ceorl of Mercia. Ye be from King Alfred?”

  “Yah,” Three Toes answered, his hand moving to his forehead. He was relieved to see a man instead of those faceless ghosts of his earlier imagination. “I’ve come with a message for the Earl of Rochester.”

  “Eadwulf is dead,” Sir Oldalf barked loudly and then introduced himself.

  “Aye. I have heard of ye,” Three Toes commented and slowly pulled his sore body to a sitting position. “Yor dottir has caused quite a stir at court.”

  “Me Ellyn. Wot news of her?” Oldalf demanded, stepping closer.

  “She be fine....” Erdwine said holding up a calming hand, “and a vision for the eyes. Tis said Sir Gospatrick is a bit taken with her.”

  “Yah,” Oldalf mumbled, somewhat mollified, but then noticed that the King’s messenger was staring suspiciously about at other strange men present. Sir Oldalf apologized and introduced Peebles, Lemay, Rice, and Sir Elid.

  “Tis the King in for some trouble?” Sir Ceorl asked. “Ye have come a long way and fast I’d say from the condition of yor mount.”

  “Aye, did the animal survive?”

  “Yah, she lives...a good strong horse to be sure.”

  “Aye. Where be Sir Eadric?”

  “Dead,” Sir Ceorl answered and saw alarm in the messenger’s face, “and the Earl’s fyrd was dispersed.”

  Erdwine’s eyes grew large at the news. Sir Eadwulf was by far the strongest Lord in the land, nearly as strong as the King himself. The rough alliance between them was all that kept the whole of Angland relatively safe against the marauding Northmen. If Sir Eadwulf was gone and his army dispersed as was claimed, well then the King was in a dangerously weakened position.

  “Methinks, the King trapped then,” Three Toes said sadly, noticing how the large, strange men toward the back moved forward at this news.

  “Trapped?” Sir Ceorl asked.

  “Yah. He grew tired of the raidin’ along his southron shores. The Northmen have grown bold under the Boneless, attackin’ and raidin’ inland from Wight these past days. Tis said that Ivarr himself leads this latest raid at the mouth of the Lizard...and it helped na the King’s disposition that the Boneless spent the winter on Anglish soil.”

  “Spit it out man. How is the King trapped?” Oldalf shouted able to stand the ramblings of the messenger no longer.

  “It may na happen, but the King was movin’ his army down the Lizard af
ter Ivarr, and was ‘xpecting Eadwulf at Shaftesbury to watch his back. Sir Alfred thought Ivarr’s move had the smell of a trap, and if he moves farther down the Lizard without the Earl’s fyrd behind him...” He stopped as the men behind him hurried to the far corner of the room and huddled over a table. Sir Ceorl and Sir Oldalf went with them and Three Toes gingerly stood, as if he were surprised to find that his legs would hold his weight.

  “It is a distinct danger,” Erdwine heard the man called Peebles say. He moved forward and saw that they were studying a map, the finest map Robin Three Toes had ever laid eyes upon. “If the King moves down this peninsula he could easily be flanked and surrounded, especially by the sea going Vikings.