Traveller Manifesto
7. Aengland - 11th Century

Aengland – 11th Century.

Michael Hunter gazed into the primeval wilds he so loved. What would it be like not to have the forest? He knew from grim experience what it was like to lose his home, to have Giolgrave lost. It all seemed too recent. The smell of the damp smoke and charcoaled flesh still nestled uncomfortably in his nostrils, while the sight of the scorched ruins had been indelibly branded into his soul. Yes, the memory of the utter devastation and his heart-crushing sense of loss could never be forgotten.

But to lose this home forever?

This journey would be a trial of the spirit as well as the body. To leave home, to take his family into the unknown was so risky it could only be described as foolhardy. Tatae had tried to comfort him. She said they would discover where they were to go, that they would find a suitable home, but all he could think about was the safety of his wife and daughter.

Damn them! Damn the Generals! Hadn’t he sacrificed enough?

Michael felt bone weary. Tranquillity of sleep was not to be enjoyed of late. This worrisome burden had enveloped his life. He recalled a Sunday lesson from Prior Horsa where he described the impossibility of serving two masters. It was also impossible, it seemed, to live in two worlds. If only the Generals could leave him be. Wasn’t it enough that he was to be their researcher, both in Saxon culture and in testing new Traveller-oriented equipment? Then there was the medical mission that helped the villagers and the train-the-trainer mission which had ended in disaster, when Wicks had been killed.

He and Tatae had, of course, learned what had happened. The theft of the Transporter by the Ukrainian Travellers seemed to have given the British Army the excuse to militarise their Traveller missions. They had also heard of issues closer to their hearts. Olivia, Tatae’s friend and CEO of the Tatae Brand natural health and beauty products was distraught. The not-so-secret romance between Olivia and Wicks, the dashing soldier and latest addition to the elite ‘Traveller Club’, meant his untimely death at the tusks of an enraged boar devastated her most of all.

But it was the threat of continued interference that had most pained Michael. There seemed to be an overwhelming desire for those in the 21st Century to create any excuse to visit his Saxon forest home. The audacious project to research the Saxon communities of a thousand years in the past, made possible due to the Transporter, was supposed to be about inconspicuous integration and observation. He had successfully assimilated himself into the village of Giolgrave, but perhaps it had all been too successful, for he had fallen in love with Tatae and, with his fellow Travellers, fought and bled for the safety and freedom of the villagers.

But what destroyed any dreams of a quiet life in Giolgrave was the insistence of a project that would change everything. Generals from the militaries involved in the original Saxon Traveller, being his own nation of Australia, the USA, Great Britain and Canada, had combined to initiate a plan to have a small to medium military camp set up in the sacred grove where the Transporter’s Area of Convergence was located. The village hunters were to train modern troops in skills that would make them more valuable assets in the world’s race to conduct ever more successful Traveller missions. They had conveniently failed to impart the detail that their plans would also include the testing of new weapons that were potentially illegal in the world of the 21st Century.

This had been the most difficult decision of his life.

To protect the villagers of Giolgrave, he had to leave the Traveller project. There would be no freedom to remain in his new home. The military he served would inevitably be most persuasive.

There was little else he could do.

He had to flee.

Their project would destroy the village. There had been too much influence already and none knew if such influence from the 21st century would affect the timeline, or perhaps another timeline, for none yet knew whether the past in which Michael lived was ’A’ past or ‘The’ past.

Only his flight would make their military plans impossible to fulfil. The training camp would not happen and the people of Giolgrave would be saved. He would ultimately pay the price. That much was certain. His flight would deny modern medical care for Tatae and their beautiful daughter, Genovefa. When in her third trimester of her pregnancy, Tatae had nearly died, saved by the miracle of modern medicine. To deny such care for his daughter was indicative of their desperation.

“So, when?” asked Eadric as they sat on a log outside of the new village hall. The longhouse had been completed and was a feature worthy of village pride. Even the posts placed either side of the double entry doors were beautifully carved.

“As soon as I discuss these matters with the Council and, of course, I’ll talk to your mother.

“Yes,” Eadric agreed sadly. “Ma would never forgive you if you didn’t tell her yourself. You are a son to her.”

Michael nodded. He understood. Hilda would be heartbroken. Ever since Michael had taken a youthful Eadric on the epic journey to Snotengaham those years ago, he had become one of them, not only of the village, but of the family.

“And to my father, though he’ll never admit it,” smiled Eadric ruefully. “With the monks also leaving, he’ll wonder what will become us here at Giolgrave.”

Michael shrugged, reluctant to comment, for to do so might expose his brittle emotions. “Giolgrave will survive! You’ll all survive and will do better than ever,” he stressed. He felt an emotional wave that threatened to crush him. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “You’ll still have a village priest and some healers of the old ways, so all should be satisfied. Once Prior Horsa becomes established in Snot he’s promised frequent visits from the priests there. He tells me he wants the priests to teach, of all things, and not just the gospel.”

There was silence as the young man thought. It seemed he felt reluctant to comment for fear of betraying his own deep emotions. “Yes, we’ll survive,” agreed Eadric reluctantly. “We will always survive, but we’ll miss you, my friend. My father always feared that once you had a wee bairn that you might return to your home, not run from it.”

“If I had a choice, I’d stay here till I died, old and toothless,” replied Michael sadly.

Eadric laughed out loud at the thought of Michael suffering age thus, but his friend continued, “As you know, the strangers can be most persuasive. If I stay, other strangers will come. I’m vital to their plans here. Once I’m gone they’ll not be so sure. Believe me, they’ll not be good for the welfare of the people of Giolgrave. I must leave, for to stay will bring great change and sorrow. I leave to protect Giolgrave and to save you.”

Eadric placed a hand over his heart at the pain and his eyes filled with tears. The young warrior looked away a moment, as if ashamed. Michael all too clearly remembered their journey to Snotengaham to collect Eadric’s sword. On the way, he had taught the thegn’s son the ways of the warrior.

“We cannot fight them?” reiterated Eadric doubtfully.

Michael shook his head firmly. “No! Never try! They have weapons you can’t dream of. But I also tell you to not do what they say. Trick them! Say you don’t understand. They’ll have Hurley try to talk you into doing things that will not be good for the people. Hurley knows.”

Eadric looked to his friend hopefully. “Then let us travel together. Join me and Yffi when we take the monks to Snotengaham. We can depart together. This way the village can farewell you with the monks.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Michael paused a moment, his heart full of hope. Though he wanted to make a clean escape, to share the road would be wonderful, so he nodded.

“Good! That is good!” nodded Eadric, relief obvious in his blue eyes.

“So, when?” asked Michael, with a small smile of relief.

“Ten days,” grunted Eadric with a sharp, confirming nod.

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