“Ammericaans,” he said softly and signaled everyone to stay put. The lead beast purred softly for a moment and then a man, or at least a man shape got out, climbed from the belly of the beast and hopped up onto the top of the growling monster and held up a hand. The manthing…the American, seemed small and struggled with its helm for a few long seconds before finally managing to pull it off. To everyone’s shock, Alfred’s most of all, there stood his daughter Æthelflæd, the Lady of Mercia.
For a long moment it was deathly quiet on the fields surrounding Exeter, everyone surprised and shocked to see the figure of Alfred’s grinning daughter. The Anglish army shuffled about, murmuring.
“Greetings father, my King!” She shouted in the still morning air, causing the unrest to die instantly. “Behold, I bring the power to destroy yor enemies.”
Again no one spoke, no one moved, and there was no sound except for the purring of the engines. At first neither of the King’s closest advisors made a move, but then Sir Helmstan spurred his horse closer to his King.
“Tis na her,” he accused softly, though his voice carried well in the still air.
Æthelflæd laughed, it was a unique, hearty laugh for a woman, and the King instantly realized that this was indeed his beloved daughter Flæd.
“King Alfred, it is I, yor dear daughter Æthelflæd, come to save yor retched hide once more,” she answered still laughing, but even so no one dared move.
Alfred spurred his white horse forward but strong though she was, Blonca would only approach so close to the beasts that roared. Overhead the two great birds circled, but they were so high in the sky, Alfred could no longer hear them. The pilots were keeping a close eye on the Danes though the King was not aware of it.
“Is the Boneless still in yonder buhr?” Flæd asked as Sir Wulfhere finally got control of his horse and moved to the King’s side, whowas but thirty paces from Flæd. Sir Helmstan and Sir Siberht likewise joined him.
“Sire?” Sir Wulfhere said bleakly, but Alfred just held up a hand.
“Father TIS me, Flæd!” She repeated still standing on the hood of the Humvee. General Peebles watched her performance with a very large smile on his face, though it was hidden behind his faceplate. He shook his head in wonder at the spirit in the diminutive woman. She obviously had a very strong personality, not something Peebles expected from the women of this time, but the majority of his assumptions about these people were turning out to be very wrong. He sat, silently amused, and watched as she stood confidently on the hummer, intimidating an army in that ridiculous uniform three sizes too large for her. And he had to admit; even he was impressed by her showmanship.
“Lady Flæd...tis truly ye?” Alfred asked though by now he was sure, but he still kept a close eye on the helmeted men behind her.
“Yah, M’lord,” she replied and performed an elegant curtsy despite the camouflaged pants. “Is Ivarr the Boneless still hiding in his buhr?”
Alfred and Helmstan looked first at one another and then turned to gaze at their forgotten enemy in the buhr. All along the walls of the fortress, men stared out at them, utterly quiet, and transfixed by the proceedings. And though the distance was much too far to actually see their expressions, Alfred fancied he saw fear and awe on all of them.
“We believe so, M’lady,” the King finally answered.
Flæd turned slowly on the beast. “Kill them for me,” she said to one of the men still seated. The faceless man nodded. Almost at once five of the beasts leaped forward, growling in righteous anger and circled Alfred’s army. They raced toward the buhr as at least twice that number of even larger beasts topped the hill to the north and came down toward them.
“The Vikings will nalonger rape and pillage these lands father,” Æthelflæd announced as the gods screamed once more. Thunder now crashed within the enemy buhr, and Æthelflæd smiled wickedly at the man still sitting silently in the foremost beast. She nodded and the man climbed out and very gently helped her down from the hood. They walked together toward Alfred, who was struck by the man’s great size. It was not until they were very close that he reached up and removed his helmet, showing a strong, clean face.
“Alfred, King of all Angland,” Æthelflæd began, “I wold like ye to meet Genaral Stephen Peeebles of the United States Army,” she said, carefully pronouncing the words the General had requested, then the General smiled and bowed, very formally, very properly.
“At your service, M’lord,” was all he said in a soft, deep voice, barely audible to the King and his advisors over the carnage that was now taking place behind them.
Chapter Seventeen
The battle for the buhr lasted less than a quarter of an hour much to the amazement of the King, his council and his army. Sir Gospatrick and his friend Ædwin were also shocked by the enormous power displayed by the Americans despite the stories they’d heard from the Lady Ellyn.
‘Hearing tis one thing, experiencing tis quite another,’ Sir Gospatrick thought as they picked their way through the charred rubble and bits of bodies. Surrounded by chaos and death, he was seriously beginning to question his desire to challenge the American who commanded Ellyn’s affections.
‘Mayhap tis an unnecessary risk,’ he thought, knowing what a fickle thing love could be. No matter how enamored he was at the present moment with the young woman from Bridgwater, his feelings were likely to fade.
Ædwin was also enamored, like he had never been before in his entire life, but not for the affections of the fairer sex. The strangers enthralled him. Everything about these men fascinated him, both their strength and their unquestioned discipline were highly attractive, but what really stirred his blood was the manner in which they answered any and all questions. They were truly open and without deceit, something very rare in men these days. These Americans could control the thunder and very lightning from the sky, yet they showed every Anglishman uncommon grace, especially the King. Ædwin watched the men very closely, every move had a purpose and despite their great power they did not take the Danes for granted.
“Hah!” Ædwin exclaimed as he came across a dead Viking lying near a large oval shield. He flipped the shield over with his toe and smiled. Burned into the wood and leather was a white eagle, its claws outstretched as if it were about to catch a fish, on a solid blue background. It was the coat of the Boneless. The man lying next to the shield was older; his full black beard peppered with gray. He was clearly dead. He was missing an arm and his head had nearly been severed, plus there was a two-foot long sliver of wood extending from his chest. Whether or not it truly was the Boneless, Ædwin could not say. He’d never set eyes on the notorious man…but he knew who would know.
“M’lord!” He called. Alfred, who was picking through the rumble near the American general, glanced up expectantly.
“M’lord,” Ædwin repeated and the King made his way over. Peebles and Lemay followed along. Ædwin watched them come and it was all he could do to keep the look of awe off his face.
Everything about them made sense, every move had a purpose. They acted as if they had all the answers. Such confidence was highly attractive. Up to now, everything about Ædwin’s life was like a slow wander through a dark black room. Sir Æthelnoth claimed these Americans could answer pretty near any question…and he had many, many questions. He knew now that he would do whatever was necessary to be close to them, to learn from them.
Alfred took one look at the man on the ground and broke into a broad grin. “Yah, tis the Boneless,” the King confirmed, happy that this man, and all the pain and sorrow he represented, was now at an end.
Master Ædwin couldn’t help but notice the grim look that passed between the two Americans.
“Tis the Boneless?”Æthelflæd asked as she moved closer to them. The General gently moved and blocked her way. “Yes, it’s him. Come, this is no place for a lady,” he added and held out an arm and escorted the Lady of Mercia from the ruined buhr.
Even from behind, Ædwin could tell that the La
dy Æthelflæd was equally enamored with these strong, large handsome men. She appeared very relaxed and content on the General’s arm.
King Alfred was not nearly as accepting as his two subjects however. He was stunned and shaken by the swift turn of events. He’d taken most of the early reports of the Americans exploits as ignorant exaggeration; as the common folk were want to do. But now that he’d seen their power he felt that perhaps the reports did not even come close to revealing the truth of the matter. The Danish buhr, which had held his army in check for nearly two days, was now a smoldering ruin, despite the heavy rain and the water logged wood from which it was built. Even more astounding yet was the fact that nearly fifty of the warlike Vikings had thrown down their arms and begged for mercy. Of course many of the enemy soldiers went berserker, screaming ‘Death to the Thundermen’ as they charged through the rubble. Most were cut down by some strange invisible force, or else cooked in a sheet of flame. It was a shame that the Boneless was not among the living, Alfred would have liked to look his lifelong enemy in the eye before dealing out his death.
Yes, Alfred was satisfied with the outcome of the battle, how could he not be? If not for the Americans it would be his own countrymen that littered the hillsides around Exeter. Despite the victory, Alfred was still unsettled by these strangers who could destroy armies so easily. They claimed their fealty now, but would they in the future. Did their loyalty depend on his being a puppet to their whims? It was a worthy question, and one for which King Alfred found no answers. He remained quiet until the party reached the lead metal wagons and then the leader of the strangers turned.
“M’lord,” Peebles said. “We’ve word that the Danes have reformed again north of Dawlish, nearly five thousand men or so. We’re planning on escorting them out to sea; just to be sure they don’t get into any more mischief. Would you care to accompany us?”
Alfred kept his face carefully blank as he considered the man’s proposal. He spent a few moments studying this giant before him. He was impossibly large, with broad shoulders and very big hands. Alfred, who stood almost six feet and was considered very tall, tried to imagine the General with a sword in his hand. It would have to be a mighty sword to be sure. Alfred was positive he’d never met anyone quite so imposing, but the General’s eyes were steady and apparently guileless and despite Alfred’s obvious reservations they twinkled at him in a friendly way.
“Halfdan will want his revenge,” Alfred replied with a nod and followed the giant. Thinking of the five thousand Vikings they would face...five thousand, such a force was almost unbelievable for the Danes, and if he had not seen their army for himself he would not have believed it. Ivarr, most assuredly, was after Anglish blood this time...royal Anglish blood.
Sir Wulfhere intercepted them before they reached the humming beasts, which the strangers aptly called “hummers.”
“Ye will go with them then?” He asked simply, and Alfred nodded. “Sir Siberht has asked to be yor personal guard. The Thundermen have agreed. Lady Æthelflæd also has designs to accompany thee. Methinks it unwise to have both of ye at the mercy of these…Ammericaans.”
Alfred smiled at his friend. “Ye begged her to rethink her actions then?”
“Na, I’d na try and argue with her, so I leave it to ye.”
Alfred chuckled and shook his head. “March me army and prisoners back to Winchester, friend. We will join ye soon.”
“So ye will allow the strangers such a chance?”
Alfred laughed again, although the sound did not have much humor in it. “We wold be dead now without the Ammericaans, ye and me. And if they wished to kill us all could any army stop them mine or the Lady of Mercia’s?”
Sir Wulfhere frowned, but conceding the point, knowing full well that if the Americans wanted them dead they would be just so much smoked meat like the multitude of dead Danes. “When ye arrive at Winchester, victorious over thy enemies, we will have a celebration over all others.”
“Godspeed,” Alfred said and clapped his friend and Ealdorman on the shoulder.
“Godspeed,” Wulfhere answered and then one of the odd looking Thundermen approached. He was shorter than most, with jet black hair and eyes, and a skin the hue of creamy, dark buttermilk.
“M’lord, if ye will come this way,” the man said, greeting the King with a very proper bow. “My name is Sadao, Paul Sadao, and I cannot tell you how honored and happy I am to meet you,” he nodded, and lead the way to a humming beast. General Peebles was already waiting in the front, while his daughter Lady Æthelflæd was smiling at him from the back, much to the concern of Sir Siberht, whom she’d relegated to another vehicle.
“Climb in father!” Æthelflæd yelled, clearly excited and happy. “I’ve been braggin’ on ye, so hold on and try na to wet yor trousers,” she added and laughed as he got in next to her. He wondered about her strange behavior. Since she was a young girl, Æthelflæd had possessed the stoicism of a man, it was one of the reasons he’d decided to marry her off to the powerful King of Mercia. She rarely gave in to her emotions and was renowned for her calm, calculating manner. In fact, there was a joke running throughout the kingdom that when she and her late husband Æthelred made love, neither of them moved. T’was na a joke to be repeated in his daughter’s company, however. Mayhap the strangers had cast a spell on her, for she was actin’ in love, which was as unthinkable as flying to Alfred...just then a Bot flew low overhead and to the south.
“Their speech sounds strange to me,” Alfred admitted to his daughter as he reached out and felt the fabric on the seat beneath him. It was very peculiar, perfectly smooth though soft and very comfortable. But try as he might he could not make out of what animal it was made. The rest of the humming beast was strong metal, like a sword or plate armor.
“Yah, they speak strangely for sure,” Flæd admitted and then slipped on her helmet, hiding her face from his with a flat silver plate. She kept her face aimed his way for a long moment.
“I can still see ye father,” she explained, and he frowned. “Na frowning now. Do ye believe me?”
“I…I…na,” Alfred stammered and leaned forward to study the flat metallic plate closer. Flæd laughed and took the helmet off again and handed it to him, and after a moment’s hesitation he slipped it on over his head. He was stunned by the fact that he could see just as his daughter claimed. In fact he could see quite well, though things were not well balanced, fuzzy around the edges, but the edges were very far around, nearly behind his head, like he could see better than with his eyes.
“Look to the fields, father,” Flæd said, leaning over the divide between the seats so that she was very close to his ear. Alfred nodded then turned his head and looked out of one of the many windows.
“Compewter...magnify 20,” she said next to his ear and suddenly the landscape rushed up on him so fast that he had a moment of extreme vertigo. He jerked the helmet off quickly and looked about, still feeling a bit dizzy, but after a moment his curiosity got the better of him and he put it back on. Things far away were now very close.
“Compewter...magnify 10...” Flæd said, and the very close things jumped back a bit.
“Compewter...magnify 1...” and things returned to normal. Alfred sat still for a moment, thinking, finally he said. “Compewter...magnify 10,” and things far away jumped out at him again. He laughed, feeling happy, like a small boy with a new puppy. But his gaiety came to an abrupt end as the rumbling beast beneath him began to move forward. The world rocked and spun and his stomach churned so he removed the helmet and handed it back to his fearless daughter. She smiled at him but Alfred gripped the seat with all his strength as the ground began to rush underneath them faster and faster.
‘Twas like riding a racing horse, but for the lack of wind,’ the King thought wildly.
Flæd solved that by pressing some unknown piece of metal and the window slid down effortlessly, letting in a rush of cool air. She stuck her head out like a dog, grinning all the while. “Tis grand is it na?�
�� she asked and her father could not help but smile. Then General Peebles turned about and held out another helmet.
“For you M’lord, if you wish.”
Alfred hesitated again, then took it as if someone were handing him a newborn babe.
“Thank ye,” he said, meaning it.
“If you want to hear what we are saying, just tell the computer...GBF,” Peebles said then put on his own helmet. The other man in front already wore one, as did the strange looking Paul Sadao, who stood behind him manning one of the deadly metal sticks that shot tiny, fast objects from its end.
Alfred slowly slipped on his helmet and first tried out the magnification trick. He was very gratified that his worked every bit as well as Flæd’s, then he looked over at his daughter and smiled, though he couldn’t see her face because she had her helmet on again and her head out the window.
“Compewter....GBF,” Alfred said gingerly and suddenly his ears were alive with many, many voices all talking at once so he couldn’t make out anything which was said, and he quickly took off the helmet and looked about the outside, trying to find the hole by which people were imprisoned inside the helm. He couldn’t find it.
“It takes some getting used to...the GBF I mean...If you don’t like it just say ‘GBF off.’” the General explained, then held out a piece of paper. “The Bots have spotted the Danish army forming up about here,” he said pointing to a spot on the map. Alfred studied the paper, not truly understanding what was in front of him for several moments, but then he looked up at Peebles, surprised. “Here let’s do it this way,” Peebles said and took Alfred’s helmet back, then said “Officer’s frequency. This will cut down on the chatter,” he explained and handed the helmet back
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