The Temporal Knights (48 page)

Garraty copied the structure into the computer, then moved on to the camp and counted nearly one hundred crude shelters.

“An army?” Lemay asked.

“Foot soldiers, or archers,” Sir Elid agreed immediately. “Knights would
na be stayin’ anywhere but within Rovescester.”

“Tis a fyrd na doubt,” Sir Ceorl confirmed.

Lemay exchanged a look of concern with Otsaka and Gardner but then turned back to Sir Ceorl.

“Where would they keep their prisoners?”

“In the dungeons below the inner keep,” he answered and noticed the frowns all around.

“It’s going to be bloody difficult,” Otsaka said, verbalizing all of their worries. Taking the outer fortress would present no real problem, but taking it before their General and the others were killed was another matter.

“Are the keep’s walls higher or lower than the outer castle walls?” the Colonel asked, once again turning to Sir Ceorl.

“They
be higher, a bit anyway.”
“Damn...it’s going to take time, and if we’re spotted by guards on the keep walls....” Lemay said quietly, mostly thinking out loud, before he turned back to Garraty. “Fly over the castle again.”

Garraty did so and it was immediately evident that the roof of the keep was deserted. Lemay sighed then ordered Garraty to fly over the town of Rochester once more. The bug made a wide circle over the town, and the Colonel noted that there was only one building over two stories high. The building was perhaps four, but probably only three stories, and it stood on the extreme southern end of the town directly between Rochester and the Earl’s fortress. Lemay
smiled, the building was perfectly placed, however it was still nearly a quarter of a mile from the northern walls, and well below the hilltop fortress.

“What’s this building here?” Lemay asked Sir Ceorl, pointing it out. The knight studied the town a bit. He was still not accustomed to viewing the Earth from such an angle and it disoriented him, but finally he was able to make out the structure’s large size and realized it could only be one place. He blushed.

“Tis Lisette’s,” he replied, clearly uncomfortable. Sir Elid burst out laughing.

Lemay and his men just looked on, confused. 

“Tis Madame Lisette’s house,” Elid explained, coming to the rescue of his uncomfortable friend. “Tis infamous across the lands. Many a young man travels across Angland to visit Lisette’s. Methinks Sir Ceorl has seen the insides of the famous house with his own eyes.”

Sir Ceorl blushed all the more, but smiled and nodded. “Forsooth, ye canna visit Rovescester and
na Lisette’s?” He replied and laughed with his friend.

“Lisette’s?”

“Tis a house for women of questionable character,” Sir Elid finally explained, surprised at the ignorance of his new commander.

“Oh,” all the Americans said together. Garraty and Otsaka actually broke out in a sweat at the thought. Neither had yet been with a local girl and the pressure was building for them both. Even Lemay, who’d also refrained from becoming intimate, was moved by the thought, though it did not show in his demeanor.

“All right, first we have to secure that building,” Lemay said.

“I volunteer,” Gardner quipped immediately.

“Keep it in your pants Captain,” Lemay replied with a smile. “I want snipers on the rooftop; from there they should be able to cover the entire northern of the fortress and, if we’re lucky, maybe part of the western wall.”

“They would also be able to cover a retreat should it be needed,” Gardner added. The Colonel nodded in agreement, though retreating was clearly not what he had in mind. Lieutenant Otsaka however, was worried.

“When were you planning to go?” he asked, knowing that there was little or no chance that the Colonel would open up negotiations before attacking...it was not his style.

“Tonight...soon 04:00.”

Sir Ceorl gasped.
‘They mean to attack tonight!’
He thought, thoroughly shocked.

“Don’t you think it would be better to wait and monitor their activity for a day, and get a better look at the surrounding countryside before going in?” The Lieutenant inquired, still concerned about the stone keep.

Lemay immediately shook his head. “No. The longer we stay, the more likely we’ll be detected. It took Eadwulf...four or five days to get here. He won’t be expecting us so soon will he Sir Ceorl?”

“He
will na. Methinks it hard to believe meself that we are here after so short a time.”

Otsaka was not ready to give up. “The team will have to approach and scale the outer walls, and then without cover fire, either breach the gate of the keep or scale its walls without being seen. Finally, they’ll need to find the General and the others in an unknown building...all before being detected.”

“I’m aware of the logistical problems Lieutenant,” the Colonel replied coldly, but he respected the man’s logic and tenacity. “Will the mission be any easier if we’re detected?”

Otsaka remained quiet.

“Sir Ceorl, Sir Elid,” Lemay began, “how are Sir Eadwulf’s prisoners treated?”

Sir Elid hesitated, not really wanting to tell his new friends the truth, but Sir Ceorl quickly spoke up.

“Sir Eadwulf would likely turn them over to his master of the dungeon....a man called Dorn, the last time I was here. A hard, large man, na someone I would wish to be beholdin’ to.”

“And?”

“Twold do abou’ anything to control ‘em and force ‘em to his Lord’s will,” Sir Elid blurted, suddenly panicking. “He’d most likely pick one to make an example of...cut out his tongue, burn out his eyes, or mayhap just flog him to death in front of the others to keep them in line.”

“My God,” Gardner blanched.

“We go tonight,” Lemay told them all grimly, and this time there were no objections from Otsaka.

“We’ll need to move at least three crews with M60’s here,” the Lieutenant said pointing to the southeast corner of town. “To cover the soldiers camped outside the fortress walls.”

Lemay nodded. “I want at least two mortar crews along as well. If it’s necessary we can shock them into indecision and scatter them. I’d like you Lieutenant, to personally see to it.”

“Captain Gardner and I will take a team and secure Lisette’s, then Hernandez and I will each lead a team over the walls,” he added, acutely aware that the best fighting men they had were already inside the keep, prisoners of the Earl. “Sergeant Kimball will stay here with a contingent of men to man the remaining hummers and additional mortars in case we need the extra firepower...let’s hope it’s not needed. I’d like to get in and out without anyone the wiser.”

Otsaka nodded and Gardner frowned. “Perhaps I should lead the team inside,” he added not wanting to think about the possibility of losing both the General and the Colonel. With Major Thane inevitably leaving for the stars, their command would be decimated.

“No,” the Colonel said softly following his subordinate’s thoughts. “I’m the best we have for the job. I’ll just have to be very careful and get them out now won’t I?”

“Aye Sir,” Gardner answered.

“Let’s get moving then,” Lemay barked. “We only have an hour to brief the men and study our plans. We move on Rochester at 04:00.”

Chapter Thirteen

G
eneral Peebles and his party entered Rovescester some nine hours earlier, just after dusk. The scene on the outer walls near the main gates was straight from the underworld, the atmosphere enhanced by the flickering torches mounted high on the parapets. Dozens of decomposing men, women, and even a few children, hung rotting and lifeless. Some were strung up by the neck, a few by their arms or legs, some were fresh and newly bloated, but most were well into the process of decay. Peebles, Rice, and the rest of the Americans were shocked and horrified by the display, which was the desired effect. Sir Eadwulf eyed the General and his men closely and was pleased to see them go pale, and even more satisfied when several of them retched and spit, unable to do more on their empty stomachs.

They marched across the drawbridge, which was made of thick beams of good English oak. The bridge itself must have weighed several tons, but not even Dr. Rice was paying the construction much attention. Inside the courtyard the grisly scene continued, eight more prisoners hung from the walls in iron crows nests. They were all men, six were still alive, and looked down the scene below with drooping eyes, uninterested in anything, not even death, which was rapidly moving their way. The other two were clearly dead and were being systematically eaten by hundreds of squawking black birds that were making an incredible din. General Peebles shook his head in disbelief, more determined than ever to put an end to this mad Earl. He glanced up and caught the gaze of one of the prisoners, but the man was glassy-eyed and almost without life. There were four birds perched on his cage just above his head, waiting, but he let them remain, completely uncaring.

“Tis a fine view from the nests they say,” Sir Eadwulf commented with a sloping grin. “Mayhap ye will get a better view in the comin’ days, eh Genaral?” Sir Eadwulf hoped to see real fear in the man’s face, but the General’s expression remained blank, showing nothing and saying nothing.

“It does
na have to be,” Eadwulf added quickly. “Welcome to me home. Come, I wold speak with ye,” he added kindly, as if speaking to a true friend. He led the General away from his men and into the keep, no less than six armed knights followed directly behind Peebles, and bringing up the rear was Sir Eadric, trailing reluctantly, wishing his lord would reconsider his actions.

The General followed the Earl through a maze of corridors, past the kitchens where all sorts of inviting smells saturated the air. The General’s stomach grumbled loudly. He’d not eaten the entire day, and the march had been a very long one, but he made no complaint as he followed Eadwulf up a narrow stoned stairway. They went up what must have been several stories before they came to a single, massive wooden door. A footman standing just outside swung the door open and then bowed low as his lord and master walked past and into his private chambers. Peebles, his hands still tied, was amused to see that all six guards moved into the room behind him. They took up positions between, but not exactly in front of their Earl. Sir Eadric moved to Eadwulf’s side, saying nothing, still not convinced that threats were the way to handle these strange men. He kept a still tongue however, because this was Sir Eadwulf’s way.

The room was not wide, but very deep, perhaps over forty feet in length, rectangular with two massive fireplaces on either end. They had entered near one end of the room where a desk and a few chairs were placed near the fire for warmth. At the far end of the room Peebles noticed a large four poster bed situated near the other fireplace, and this surprised him slightly. He hadn’t pictured the Earl sleeping in such comfort, or for that matter enjoying any comforts at all.

Sir Eadwulf moved quickly behind the desk and gestured to one of the chairs, and the General gratefully sat, happy to finally get off his feet.

“I’d be blunt with ye,” Eadwulf started without further niceties. “I need yor men to rid this land of Alfred...to make me King, as is me right. Ye be strangers to this land...wot matter to ye wot King ye serve eh?” The Earl asked and then paused for a moment. “I am prepared to offer ye titles and lands in northern England, with more coming in Scotland if ye can take and tame those wild highlanders. Ye can serve me just as well as ye could serve Alfred, who will na trust ye, as he does na trust me. Tis me strength which gives the King pause, and yors will receive the verily same reception.”

“And you will trust me?”

Eadwulf laughed. “Na, I’ll na trust ye either, but I will learn from ye, and ye seem well enough attached to Eve, the little one. Captain Lochlin will have her by now,” he bragged, noticing with satisfaction as the General’s jaw tensed. “She’ll be safe enough with me and live the life of a young noblewoman...tis a good life. She’d most like be verily happy, if...ye swear yor fidelity to me as yor one true King.”

General Peebles hesitated, saying nothing, which irritated the Earl, who expected an answer immediately. He looked at Sir Eadric, but the man remained expressionless.

“I’ll have to consider your offer. It’s a very attractive one I must say,” Peebles replied trying to sound nearly convinced, and if not for the death of Hamilton and the abduction of Eve, he may even have meant it...if Sir Eadwulf was a man of more temperate actions. They were here to change history, to put mankind on a new and accelerated path and removing King Alfred from the throne would certainly change history. But what little compassion Sir Eadwulf possessed made such a decision impossible and for all practical purposes Eadwulf was now a dead man, though it would be some time before the Earl realized this fact. The General only hoped that he would be around to see this vile man’s demise, and had to admit the Earl’s death would give him almost as much satisfaction as killing a Skawp.

“So be it, but ye will do yor considerin’ from me dungeon,” Eadwulf answered coldly, angry again. He did not understand these strangers. They just did not think like men.
‘Wot did the General expect him to do with the girl if he considered the situation wrongly? Death would be her end, so just wot was there to consider? Mayhap the General wold send the wee one to her death, though it twas more’n obvious that he loved her.’
Eadwulf felt a chill go up his spine at the thought.
‘Mayhap these men were hard men, harder than he had first taken them to be. But if’n they be hard, so much the better. They’d truly be of his ilk and wold soon come to understand the situation and be swayed to his side. Hard men will na be patient with Alfred’s prattling to be sure.’

“And General, I’ll be ‘spectin’ an answer in the morn,” Eadwulf said with a grim smile. “Dorn, the Captain of me dungeons, is
na a patient man and will na be held off for long,” he added and then he dismissed Peebles with a wave and the General was taken away.

His guards led General Peebles back down to the main level and then into a much narrower stairway where they went lower and lower still. By the time they reached the end of the spiraling stone steps they were well below ground level; the walls and floor were slick with an oozing dampness. It was dark, cold and ominous, much less pleasant than those well lit, odorless dungeons portrayed in Hollywood.  The narrow, thin corridors were right out of some terrible dream, but the rancid smell of the place convinced the General that it was real enough. The
guards led him to a small, thick wooden door with a large iron lock and a small window which was crisscrossed by thick iron bands. One of the guards banged on the door once and a pale, scarred face appeared on the other side of the window.

“Pepper!
Lord Eadwulf wants this one with the others,” the guard informed the creature on the far side of the door. “He’s na to be harm’d. We’ll come for him at first morn...then his fate tis up to the Earl.”

The pale man opened the door, which was incredibly thick, about eight to ten inches, and apparently well hinged, because it swung easily, and without a sound.

“Ah, another giant man,” the pale man said, his face crisscrossed with scars, that Peebles barely noticed, his attention turning at once to the man’s missing eye and the bare socket which was displayed with obvious pride. The man called Pepper grinned at the General’s reaction showing a mouth half full of rotting teeth. He reached out and grabbed Peebles by the wrist and it took all the General’s self control not to lash out at the small, dirty man. Pepper pulled him through the small door. Peebles bent low to keep from banging his head and shuffled through.

“Master Dorn took a likin’ to me and let me keep me tongue, but
donna think he twill be so merciful with the likes of ye,” Pepper cackled and ushered him into a surprisingly large room for such a small door leading into it. The guards followed close behind, spears at the ready, though they never touched Peebles with them. The room was dark, lit only by a pair of smoky torches, but the General’s eyes adjusted quickly enough to see the place was filled with many instruments of torture. Peebles recognized only the whip and the bellows with its hot iron, but the purpose of the room was very evident. Despite the veiled promises, Master Dorn did not appear as the guards led the General across the room and down a short set of steps to another, even darker hallway. Here, the ceiling was only about six feet high and the General was forced to walk with his head bent forward. They led him down the corridor, past numerous prisoners caged behind iron lattice works, before they stopped and removed the ropes from the General’s wrists.

“General!” Dr. Rice said and rushed toward the ironworks. His fingers gripped the bars but he deftly pulled them back as Pepper whipped around and struck out with a heavy wooden baton. Rice retreated from the bars a bit but was not cowed. “We’re all here General,” he continued despite the glare he was getting from Pepper. “Sadao and Moore are with me. Hersey, Newton, and Chuen are farther down.”

“We’re here General,” came a call a few cells down.

“Ye wilt all be deaden if ye
donna shut yorn holes,” Pepper bellowed, his face growing very red in the torchlight. In his anger he shoved the General into a cell with all his might but was surprised when the big man barely budged. Peebles turned slightly and fixed his cold eyes on the dungeon keeper before turning and walking slowly into the cell. Pepper frowned at him for a moment then struck off to find his master, taking the guards with him.

Once the smelly little man was gone, Peebles turned and in the dim light inspected his new accommodations. The floor of the cell was covered with old, dirty straw, and stank of urine and human waste. The walls dripped with water from above, and the temperature had to be just above freezing. There was no toilet, no beds, no windows, and the only light came from the torches placed sporadically in the corridor beyond the iron gate of the cell. He shared his prison with Corporal Jefferies and Private Trotske, who were greeting him stalwartly, but as his eyes adjusted he noticed three other men as well.

Two of the ragged prisoners stood, only slightly stooped from the low ceiling and watched him with wide, wary eyes, clearly protecting the third man who lay prone on the filthy floor bleeding freely from his mouth and nose.

Peebles looked at Jefferies questioningly.

“He pulled this,” the Corporal explained, holding up a small, but sharp bit of metal, “and tried to take my clothes.”

Peebles studied the other prisoners for a moment. They wore no shirts or shoes, and their pants were little more than rags. They all were heavily bearded and exceedingly dirty and thin. He was sure that they’d been prisoners for many years. The two standing looked back at him, their eyes crazy with fear and longing. The General slowly removed his uniform shirt, then his undershirt, and threw it to one of the men. They immediately began to fight over it, until Peebles stepped in and stopped them even though it made his stomach turn just to touch them.

“Jefferies take off your shirt.” The Corporal did so, and quickly handed it over to the prisoners. Trotske did likewise and laid it over the man who was still unconscious then they all put back on their uniform shirts. It was cold.

“Who are you?” Peebles asked, but both men shook their heads and stared at the ground. The General looked over at Jefferies. “Do you think they’re Danish?”

The Corporal shrugged, but both men were there shaking their heads again, then one opened his mouth. Even in the dim light they could easily see the man was missing a tongue. The Americans gasped.

“Tis wot ye all be a gettin’ if’n ye
donna shut yor holes,” grumbled a man loudly from just beyond the gate. The seasoned prisoners backed away without thinking, but the General and his men all turned to see who spoke. The man was large for the times, not quite fat, but well fed, and his shoulders were impossibly broad. His hair was long and tied back into a filthy ponytail. He wore a leather jerkin, but no shirt beneath and around his waist was a belt that held numerous iron tools of some unknown, but obviously nefarious purpose. He carried a heavy wooden baton, and glared in at the prisoners with barely controlled lust. “Eadwulf says to leave ye be, but yorn men be mine,” he informed the general with a nearly toothless smile and short, barking laugh. He eyed the new prisoners for another moment, hardly able to contain his excitement over the prospect of taming these giant men then he turned and headed off toward the warmer and better smelling parts of his domain. He hummed a tuned to himself as he walked, completely confident that these men would bend, then break, just like all the others. Pain, cold and hunger would wear down any man in time, and Dorn knew that he had all the time in the world.