1066

We sat around a large fire of an evening and he explained the future. We made no effort at concealing our whereabouts anymore, so a good fire didn't matter much. His explanation ran this way.

He said to me and those of our whole group, "The Normans are closing in. I imagine we're just about the last of the resistance. I'm sure they know that too so my guess is they've called in knights from all over. We might face as many as a hundred heavily armed mounted men."

I asked, "Won't the forest at least protect us to some degree?"

Osgyrth shrugged, "Here's the trouble; they've cut us off and they know it. We're near out of food. Forest game is depleted. If we don't come out, they can wait until we starve. I'd rather face them now. Maybe if we kill enough of them others still might rise."

One of our other knights asked, "Do you believe that to be true?"

Osgyrth looked grim, "No. I think after us it is over."

A hush descended on the handful of men, women, and boys. I caught Godyfa's eye and winked. She winked back. I asked, "So when shall we...?"

He didn't hesitate, "There's a small meadow not far off. There's a gentle knoll. I say the day after tomorrow we'll make our way there. The Normans will know. I think they'll let us form up. It'll be another opportunity for them to find something to brag about."

I looked at Godyfa, "You?"

She held up a fist, "Yes."

So that was that, well almost.

++++++++++

That night I collected my people. Owen had come back so we were a full complement. I looked around, "As you heard tomorrow we travel to this meadow Osgyrth mentioned. I want some of us to try to escape tonight. Owen you take all the children, Osana, Hilda, Meghan, and what other women want to go and get away now, tonight."

Owen defied me, "No, I intend to stay!"

I cuffed him with my left hand, "I'm lord here. You'll do as I say. You're to take the women that want go and all the children. Escape. The Welsh will take you in. If not them then get to Aeryn or whatever that far place is called; they'll take you I'm sure. But get away. Tell these children how their parents died. Look about Owen, these ten children, another had died since my boy, are all we have."

Owen had his head down and was shaking it no.

"Owen you must obey me on this. You owe me this."

At last he looked up, "All right."

I thought I should say something. He'd been a good boy. He'd grown into a man these past weeks. I should've said something, I didn't.

Later in the evening Owen led his small group out. Godyfa and I kissed and bid our daughter Fridu farewell. She cried and it made me happy knowing she didn't want to leave. I told her I loved her. I was proud I had said it.

++++++++++

The next morning we all broke the fast at a leisurely pace. We ate all the food we had left. We put on our armor and packed our weapons. I had an extra helm. I handed it one of the boys. He grinned and put it on; it was too large and didn't fit. With Godyfa at my side we walk on. We left all our extra clothing, cooking pots, and other unnecessary paraphernalia behind. We cleared the forest by early afternoon. We'd reached the meadow.

All around us we heard the rustle of dead leaves, the crunch of Norman boots, and the shrill screams of their massive steeds. As we crossed toward the hillock someone among the Normans must have given a signal because the still unseen men at arms began to use their weapons to hammer on their shields. I guessed the noise was supposed to frighten us. Considering the raucous din of the Norsemen a few weeks back the sound the Normans made was laughable. In fact we did laugh.

We reached the top of the knoll and formed up. There were perhaps twenty or so young men, another fifteen women, three children, and, by today's count, thirteen knights. As we formed a circle we watched as the Normans appeared in the distance below. By my guess it looked like maybe a hundred mounted knights and twice as many more men afoot. I was delighted to see no bowmen. My mind drifted for a moment. I considered if a man had a bow with enough resistance he might be able to fire an arrow with enough power to penetrate some of that armor. I shunted that nonsense aside.

Osgyrth stepped before us. He knelt and holding his sword by the blade he held it up. We all knelt too. Us knights, we held up our swords after the same fashion as Osgyrth. It was like thirteen crosses all being raised toward the sky. Osgyrth gave a brief prayer. As usual I failed to understand the meaning of the words, but my Godyfa must have understood because she started to cry. We all stood back up.

From below someone gave an order and the mounted knights started up the hill. At first they came at a trot, then they moved somewhat faster, and at last about two hundred paces away they started in at a full gallop.

I looked over at my beautiful wife. She blessed me with another of those wondrous smiles of hers and said, "I'll meet you on the other side."

I guessed she meant the portal the friar once described; the portal that separated this world from the next. I wasn't sure. Those were the last words I heard my wife say.

I turned to face the onslaught. With my sword I beheaded one of their horses. I wasn't certain, but I thought I got the man as well. I looked back over to see my Godyfa, but she was face down on the ground. The back of her head was a mass of blood; it ruined the look of her hair, her bright red hair.

I started to cry, but stopped! Why would I do that? My thoughts instantaneously tumbled out! I was a Saxon soldier! I mean me; cry? Me? I should be happy; I had everything I wanted. In a few seconds I'd be back again with my woman, my girl, my Godyfa! A broad happy smile crossed my face. 'Meet you on the other side,' she'd said!

I exclaimed, "I will, by God, I will!"

When I turned again all I saw was a gauntleted hand, a mailed fist, then the mace as it came hurtling down. All went dark.

Epilogue:

Forty maybe fifty generations later somewhere in the English speaking world a middle aged school teacher sat looking out at the students in her classroom. It could have been anywhere; it could have been New Zealand, or Australia, or America, or Canada, or South Africa, or maybe Ulster, perhaps Tasmania, maybe even England herself, it could have been any of more than a hundred different places around the world where Anglo-Saxon boots once trod.

The composition of this class was coed, but it could just as easily been all boys or all girls. They might or might not have been wearing uniforms; it didn't matter. Public or private school; that didn't matter either.

This morning the teacher was especially bored. It was the middle of the school year. She taught World History. They'd already finished Prehistoric Man and the Ancient World. Her favorite period was Modern History, but to get to what she wanted they still had to get through the Middle Ages.

She looked down at her pudgy fingers and the backs of her chunky little hands; they showed the first faint signs of sun spots. She loved working outside. She liked getting her hands dirty. She enjoyed gardening. She loved her flowers. She supposed the love of the earth was something that just ran in the family; it was a part of who she was.

She scanned her classroom. There were three columns of desks, six rows deep. There were two desks per row on the two outer columns, and three desks for each row on the inner column. Each desk had its book and each chair its child. The children looked as bored as she felt. They were working on an assignment that covered the start of the Middle Ages; they were working on the Dark Ages.

In the third row of the middle column there sat a tiny little girl with red hair, green eyes and freckles. The child looked like she'd been day dreaming. Mrs. Shropshire, which was the teacher's name, asked in her best low toned authoritative voice, "Meggie have you finished already?"

Megan Owens looked up at the teacher, "I'm on the very last question Mrs. Shropshire." Megan hated her nickname. She was thirteen now, and Meggie was a holdover from her childhood years. The pretty little girl wondered, 'Didn't the old battle axe know she was almost a woman now? Heck she even had a boyfriend!'

Megan scanned the chapter they'd been assigned. The teacher had written ten questions on the eraser board. Teacher insisted they copy all the questions. Megan didn't know why they had to do that; to her it was just another waste of time. History was a waste of time. It was her worst subject. She was on the last question. She'd gotten the parts about the Moors, the Vikings, the Arabs, the Byzantium people, and the parts about Charlie the Maine and the Battle of Towers. That part confused her; it was like there were two men named Charles.

She read the last question and sighed. It read, 'How did William the Conqueror's victory in 1066 bring about the beginnings of modern England?' She checked the book, and found the subtitle, 'William the Conqueror and Modern England.' Thank God, only two paragraphs, two paragraphs and she'd finally be through. Like finally!

From history she got to go to lunch, and she was really hungry. This was Wednesday, pizza day! Just get this last question done and she'd be free!

Megan scanned the two paragraphs. Another stroke of luck; their history book always underlined and highlighted the important words. Instead of reading the whole thing she skimmed for the main words. Ah yes, William, Harold, Normans, Saxons, the Battle of Hastings. It all fit. She took her pen and wrote down what she thought would work, 'In 1066 William and Harold met up with the Saxons and Normans and did the Battle in Hastings. Modern England started the next day.' There! At last! Done!

She began to close the book, but noticed an illustration that covered the whole right side of the last page of the chapter. It was a funny picture; a man was dressed in a round, no cone shaped hat, a helmet she thought, and a long suit, no it was a big shirt. He was holding a really big sword and a long shield. The hat, no helmet, had a funny looking piece of metal in front of his nose. His whole face, his whole face except his eyes and mouth was covered in what the caption under the picture called chain mail. The illustration was in color. His eyes made him look really fierce. He had hazel colored eyes; her dad had eyes like that. For a second, just for a second it seemed like the man in the picture was looking right out at her, like he was almost real, it was kind of creepy... she yawned.

She closed the book and pushed it up into the right hand corner of the desk so it would be ready for the next kid who sat here. She glanced at her wristwatch; two minutes before the bell. She made a last check of her paper, only four scratch outs! She sat up straight; she folded her hands demurely on the desk and waited to be dismissed.

Megan thought about what they'd been made to do; all that old timey stuff. She bet it must have been really boring way back then. She wondered if they did things like have dates, have boyfriends, and maybe even fall in love. Probably not; at least not like now. She bet they probably didn't do hardly anything. She bet there wasn't even hardly anything to do anyway. Life must have been really dull, like boring! She didn't know why they even had to read this stupid junk.

Mrs. Shropshire stood up. The bell was about to ring. She announced to the children, "Straighten your desks, tidy up your rows, don't leave any paper on the floor, make sure your name's are on your papers, and don't forget to place, I said place your papers in the tray on your way out, and don't try to rush out. I'll dismiss you by columns like I always do. And one more thing, Edward are you listening? Nobody gets to sneak out the back door!" Mrs. Shropshire was proud of herself; she knew what was really important.

The bell rang and Mrs. Shropshire dismissed the children. She picked the stack of papers up out of the tray. She thought, 'another stack of paper to grade.' She liked teaching; she just hated reading and grading papers.' She considered again, 'Why bother? It's just old stuff, just the Middle Ages, the Dark Ages at that. Nobody would care. She wouldn't bother to read this set; she'd just put a check if they answered all ten questions.'

She tidied herself up, walked out, and closed and locked up the room. It was her lunch time too. The heels of her shoes clattered on the dark green linoleum flooring as she walked away.

Back in the room everything was still and dark, not a sound, empty. The books with their meaningless facts were all placed neatly in the upper right hand corners of the desks; all ready for the next batch of children. No one really cared anyway. After all, it was only history.

The end.