The Oath: Honor

By LG McKenna

The Oath Summary Retired Major Robert Churchill thought that his life had reached its plateau, he was a devout bachelor, and he lived in an upscale condo in Washington D.C. and had a very good job with the Defense Department. He had money in the Bank, some good friends, and was able to take very good vacations where and when he wanted.
He was bored, but that changed one sunny morning going to work.
He woke up to a life of challenge and to him excitement.
He woke up in a world far different from the one he had lived in all his life, a world he had only read about in history books, and seen in the movies.

But this was no movie.
And why did a sword feel so natural in his hand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 5, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483602936

LG McKenna

L G McKenna was born August of 1941, in Detroit Michigan, moved to Utah in 1946, joined the Navy in 1958 and served four years, was discharged in 1962. He’s worked as a farm laborer, Machinist, production control supervisor, and Merchant Marine. He now lives in Downey California with his wife of Thirty Eight years, and three cats. He wrote a short story for himself sometime around nineteen fifty nine, and kept it for years. It got lost sometime in the eighties, On retiring after a heart attack, he found he had the time to sit at a computer and write, so he re-wrote his first short story, titled The Homestead and found out that he enjoyed writing, and has decided to continue writing fiction. He’s always enjoyed a tall tail.

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Copyright © 2013 by LG McKenna.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 02/26/2013

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

Major Robert Churchill,woke up, showered, shaved, got dressed, and drove to his local restaurant, where he had his usual breakfast of coffee, bacon, and eggs. He then drove to work, arriving fifteen minutes early as usual, parked his car, picked up his briefcase, and got out. He had every expectation of another boring day, evaluating physical and mental reports in preparation for a new training schedule for the Special Forces.

There was a loud bang and a flash of light.

Most accidents happen without warning. And some of them can change your life forever.

Robert was born on July 7, 1958, in Sacramento, California. He was the second child of US Marine sergeant major John Gunny Churchill. He had an older sister, Mary, who was seven years his senior. A normal boy, he was an average student in school. He played baseball and football, joined the Boy Scouts and achieved Eagle Scout rank, held a black belt in karate, and was on the school’s boxing team. He took second place in state finals. His favorite hobbies were chess, hunting, fishing, and camping.

He was accepted to West Point and graduated in the top 10 percent of his class. A career soldier, he served in South Korea, Japan, Germany, Bosnia, Iraq, and Afghanistan, retiring with the rank of major. His father died of a heart attack when he was twenty-six and his mother three years later. He never married, but his sister did. She married when he was at West Point and moved from Sacramento to Lodi, California, was divorced two years later, and moved back with their parents. She became a real estate agent, eventually opening her own office.

On retiring from the army, he was offered a job at one of the defense department’s think tanks as a tactics and strategist specialist.

Robert woke up on his back. He ached all over, and he couldn’t see.

He must be on a bed or something.

A car bomb was his first thought.

He was confused; he didn’t know what had happened or what was going on. For that matter, where was he? It was dark. He couldn’t see. Oh, his eyes were shut. He could hear someone talking, but it was some foreign language he didn’t know. He felt terrible; he ached all over and had an awful taste in his mouth. He tried opening his eyes. First his right, then his left. It was blurry at first, and then gradually, it got clearer. He tried looking around but couldn’t move his eyes, but what he could see confused him even more. He assumed he was in a hospital. He expected to see those white ceiling tiles with little holes and maybe curtains.

It was dim. The ceiling was bare wood with huge beams; they looked dusty and in need of cleaning. He moaned and tried to move. Where in the hell was he? He thought, This couldn’t be a hospital. There was movement on his right, and a woman’s face came into view. She said something that he couldn’t understand and moved away and was replaced by a man with a beard and long hair.

The man leaned in close, staring into his eyes, and then he removed a cloth from his head and felt his forehead. He turned his head and said something to whoever was with him, then again stared into his eyes. The man wasn’t dressed like a doctor; he wore a dark-brown fur-trimmed robe-like outer thing with wide fur-trimmed sleeves that came down to the elbows over some kind of shirt that came down to the wrists. The robe was belted with a wide black leather belt with a large silver-looking buckle, and he wore a heavy gold-looking necklace. Robert could smell alcohol on the man’s breath. The man said something else and moved away. Robert thought he recognized the language but couldn’t think what or which one it was. Then his eyes started to close; he tried to keep them open but couldn’t.

He dreamt he was sitting behind his father on a horse, going hunting. A young boy on a horse rode beside them, pointing and gesturing as they rode through a forest. The boy was dressed funny, so was his father. He had his arms around him, and he could feel his sword under his cape.

He must have slept; he opened his eyes again and looked around. I’m not paralyzed, he thought, or am I? He tried moving and couldn’t. He could feel his arms and legs, even his chest and stomach. But he couldn’t move. Oh god, I am paralyzed, he thought. He turned his head first right then left, looking around desperately for anything that might help him. It was difficult turning his head. He realized he could look around, he could move his head and his eyes, and he could hear.

It was dim, but he could still see stone walls, a large wooden door, and lit candles in some kind of brackets next to the door. On a small window across from the door with an arms rack next to it, he recognized a shield and some spears. He must have made some kind of sound because he heard a woman’s voice, and then the woman’s face he had seen before came into view. She wasn’t a woman; she was a girl. She was cute and looked to be in her teens. She looked over her shoulder and said something to someone. He thought he smelled roses. The door opened and closed. Beth leaned down and said something to him. William… Can you… ?

Her breath smelled nice. She had long blond hair around her shoulders and pretty blue eyes, and it looked like she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Beth called him William.

Completely confused, Robert’s thoughts raced. I’ve never seen this girl before in my life, but I know her name. How the hell do I know her name? It is her name too. How do I know that? How can I know that? And she called me William.

Complete confusion!

Oh god, what’s going on? I’m going crazy. That’s it, I’ve had a concussion, and I’m going crazy. His mind continued going around and around in circles. This is a nightmare, he thought. She really needed a bra.

The door opened again, and the man with the beard followed by another man came in. The doctor came over to him and picked up his arm and checked his pulse while his father stood at the foot of his bed.

Damn. My father’s dead. He died of a heart attack. This man couldn’t be his father. It couldn’t be. No, it couldn’t be. How could this man be his father? He’d never seen this man before. My father was over six feet. This man (father) was five eight or five ten. My father would never grow a beard, and this man had a well-trimmed one. He started to panic. What the hell is going on?

One Week Earlier

Lady Ida sat in her solar, repairing the embroidery on one of her husband’s tunics. Mrs. Ivey, she said to her maid. I’m at wit’s end. William just lies there. If you didn’t notice him breathing, you’d think he was dead. Heir Hendrick has to feed him with a funnel, and Sir Raymond is beside himself with grief. He’s come to the belief that William’s dying. I’m going to have to do something about it. He even snapped at me this morning, and all I had done was ask him how he’d slept. Then later after breakfast, he got into an argument with his brother, Sir Rufus, about training or something.

I know, my lady, said Mrs. Ivey. He’s having trouble holding back his grief. My Hugh says he knew a squire once that got hit on the head with a mace during a melee, and it knocked him out. It was an accident of course. He said the boy was out cold for almost a week before he woke up.

Was he all right?

Well, not right away, my lady. It was like he’d had a stroke or something. Sir Hugh said that he had trouble with his whole left side, but it slowly got better. He’d just started training again when he caught a really bad cold and died.

It’s stories like that that’s got Sir Raymond so upset, said Lady Ida. William is small for his age, but he is so handsome. I’m afraid that Sir Raymond believes he’ll be a cripple if he does wake up. And I’m afraid that he might be thinking that it would be better for William if he didn’t wake up.

Robert opened his eyes and looked around. His mouth tasted awful again. There was the doctor putting away a potion cup. Beth was at the foot of his bed, watching him, and she said something. The doctor turned back and looked down at Robert. William, can you… Can you… Can you feel?

Robert’s mind was in turmoil. He was so confused. He didn’t know what to think. He had never seen these people before, but he knew them. He had grown up with Beth; she was Mac Neal the reeve’s daughter. She had just passed her fourteenth birthday; he had whittled a willow whistle for her as a present. It took all his strength, but he raised his arms and looked at them. They were the arms and hands of a stranger, a teenager, not those of a thirty-six-year-old bachelor.

What the hell is a reeve? I can move my arms.

Dr. Hendrick, or Heir Hendrick because that was what he liked to be called, looked concerned and spoke to Beth again. There was an awful taste in his mouth, and his tongue was thick, making it difficult to talk. His arms collapsed back onto the bed.

Water please, he croaked. The doctor spoke to himself and poured some water into a pewter cup. Then lifting up Robert’s head, he held the cup to his lips. Beth must have left because the door opened and Beth came back in followed by his father and stepmother.

It just kept getting more and more confusing. He was having a nightmare. Oh god, no, this couldn’t be happening. He didn’t know what to think or say. He took another swallow of water and lay back down.

What happened? Where am I? he asked.

His father was standing next to the doctor. He was about medium height with hair down to his shoulders and full faced with a well-trimmed beard. He was wearing a long green fur-trimmed robe over a yellow tunic, a wide brown belt with a gold buckle and what looked like a dagger, and gray hose with knee-high boots. Your horse stumbled, he said, and threw you into that old oak tree next to the village well. We all thought you were going to die. Heir Hendrick said he’d do what he could to make you better. And by the gods, he has. We’ve all been so worried, and you’ve been in bed for so long, we didn’t know what to think. The good Dr. Hendrick has worked a miracle and saved your life. I’m going to write a letter to the king, telling him what the good doctor has done.

A letter to the king, he thought, what goddamn king?

The door opened again, and his older brother, Frank, came in. He could only look from one to another of these people. He knew he couldn’t know them. He knew his father and mother were dead, and he knew he didn’t have a brother, for Christ’s sake, only an older sister who was still alive and living somewhere he couldn’t remember just now.

Frank was wearing chain mail and a sword; in fact, everyone was dressed like people from the Middle Ages or King Arthur’s court.

A memory of Frank showing him how to hold a bow and sight down the arrow, to pull the string all the way back to his ear, and then check the wind direction and strength flashed across his mind.

I have to thank my lady wife for not letting me give up on you, his father continued. She kept saying that you would get better and come back to us. She had faith, son. She kept saying just give you time, that with accidents like yours, it’s the strong that survive and that you’re strong like me, so just give you time.

Saying that, he turned and held out his hand to Lady Ida and brought her up next to him.

Lady Ida wore a dark-red fur-trimmed robe like everyone else, open down the front, revealing a white deep-necked blouse with some kind of bolero-type vest that laced up the front, accentuating how well-endowed she was, over a pink skirt. She too wore a wide leather belt with what looked like a bone-handled knife. She had brown hair that was braided and coiled on each side of her head. Will, she said, you’re going to have to get better real soon if you mean to go to the harvest fair and tournament.

He looked from one to another.

I’m confused, he said. I don’t remember anything. How long have I been ill?

You’ve been ill, well, that is, you’ve been unconscious for three weeks now, the doctor said. I was starting to get worried. You see, I was thinking that you might not wake up. It’s so hard to know, you see. Headfirst into that old tree at a full gallop, there’s not very many people who would survive an accident like that, you see.

His stepmother sat down on the edge of the bed and, picking up his right hand, asked, Are you hungry, little one, I mean, William?

Hungry, oh my god, hell, he was starving; he had never been this hungry.

I’m starving, he said. Can I get a—?

His stepmother gave him a look and, turning to Beth, said, Go down to Old Wilma, and ask her for another bowl of broth, and let her know that Will’s awake and doing just fine.

Turning back to him, she said, Old Wilma’s made your favorite venison stew for supper tonight, so you’re in luck. Last night, it was roast chicken and onion soup.

I wanted a sandwich, he thought. I wonder what it was I said. I’m going to have to be careful with what I say. Damn, I must be speaking a foreign language. How can that be? I’ll have to keep a low profile, he thought. Acting confused shouldn’t be a problem.

Lady Ida sure looks good for her age, he thought. Another memory flashed across his mind of Lady Ida stepping out of her shift and getting into the bathtub with his father. She had big breasts, a tiny waist, big hips, and hairy legs and groin. She doesn’t shave her legs, he thought, but then why would she shave her legs?

Then he realized Frank, his brother, was talking to him.

Sorry, Frank. What were you saying?

I was just wondering how you could fly headfirst into a tree and not show a bruise or a scratch. You popped most of the rivets in your helmet. You must have a head like a rock and the luck of the fairies.

It could be he’s as hardheaded as his big brother, his father replied.

It must run in the family then, said Frank, glancing at their father. But he’s sure not as handsome as the rest of us though.

What about Dancer? Robert asked, remembering his horse and feeling somewhat worried. His horse—damn, he’d never owned a horse. Dancer was a purebred percheron, he remembered, sixteen hands tall, a steel gray with a strong barrel chest and massive hind quarters—a beautiful horse by any