The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) (10 page)

“I see man developing a medium in which great amounts of information can be stored, and then easily assessed.”

“Yessir. That medium must be our invention of paper, then printing.”

“Segments of these informational bundles are known as files.”

“Yessir. Big ol’ steel file cabinets, each one filled with file after file, brimming with paper that is full of all sorts of information so that its general knowledge can be shared, I reckon.”

“These will be in a digital format.”

“Oh, I get it, you must be talking about libraries. Yessir, they are just full of all sorts of good useful information, all at your fingertips thanks to the Dewey Decimal System.”

“Digital.”

“Whatever.”

“All of these devices; timepiece, photography and sound recreation; the ability to photograph, and watch, then send around the world, moving pictures; to talk with one another and access an endless sea of information in an instant will all be contained in a single device that will fit in the palm of man and will be unencumbered by wired tether.”

“Wuh?
Wuh!
Wuh-
HAH
-hahahahahahahaha!”

“I tell you, what I say is true!”

“
Bah
-hahahahahahahaha!”

“Stop laughing! These things will come to be!”

“
Hoo, hoo!
Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Mischa, sir, you were doing pretty good for a minute there, but then you went all silly with the whimsical magic stuff.”

“But what I say is true, I tell you!”

“Ho, ho! Ain’t he a hoot, Miss Stephanie?”

“
Tee, hee!
Oh, dear, I am so sorry, oh Great Mischa, I am completely unable to contain the mirth of such silly notions!
Tee, hee!
Laughter bubbles up and I am powerless to detour its merry enchantment!
Tee, hee!
Really, your fanciful notions are charming baughtte come now, what folly!
Tee, hee!”

“Stop laughing! Both of you! I refuse the scorn of an imbecile! I will suffer no woman to mock me! I cannot stand it! You will both be silent!”

“Ho, ho!”

“Tee, hee!”

~squawk!~
“Ha, ha!”
~squawk!~

“No, not the Haugghibier, the Cockatoo!”

“Ree, ree, ree!
Ha, ha, ha!
Ree, ree, ree!”

“No! I cannot be laughed at by my own chimpanzee!”

“Ho, ho!” “Tee, hee!”
~squawk!~
“Ha, ha!”
“Ree, ree, ree!”

“Be quiet, all of you! Do naughtte laugh at me! You, the little ape...”

“You mean me?”

“No, The other little ape! I cannaughtte allow thee to continue! Come here! I will smite thy hairy head!”

~Smite! Smite! Smite!~

“Hien! Hien! Hien!”

“Oh no! Mr. Mischa! Please stop spanking your monkey!”

“Shut-up! Do naughtte dare to interfere!”

“I’ll protect you little buddy!”

“Bah! Get out of the way! I shall slay that little beast! Bah, I shall kick any vulnerable area I can find on you, you pathetic excuse of a Knight, until you release that chimp you protect by balling your armoured body around it!”

~Kick! Kick!-*  *~

“Cease thy kicks on Ichabod’s vulnerables!”

“Bah, the quest-wench! How dare you lay hands on me!”

~back-slap!~

“Oh, I am struck!”

“Persephone!”

~punch!~

“Oh my Goodness, are you all right, Ma’am?!”

“Eh hem, methinks I shall recover from the Great Mischa’s backhand slap, long before the Great Mischa recovers from the punch of Sir Ichabod.”

chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug

“If they follow us all the way back to Camelot, can we keep ‘em?”

“Methinks the camel, bird, and chimp have already made that decision, Sir Ichabod.”

“Yay!”

“Sir Ichabod?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Who is Persephone?”

“Eep! How do you know that name?!”

“When the Great Mischa struck me, you called out this name with passion as you offered defense from the ungallant magician.”

“Oops, I’m sorry. I reckon I lost my head for a moment. ‘Persephone’ refers to Miss Persephone Plumtartt.”

“I see, eh hem. Oh, I sayeth, Sir Ichabod, take a care!”

“Hunh? What’s the matter?”

“The end of our quest draws near! We are in the lands of the ogre!”

“You mean the giant, three headed ogre that I am tasked to slay?”

“Aye! Stop your infernal steam-coach. I will lightly traipse ahead and verify our destination in a discreet manner.”

~gulp!~

“Oh my Goodness, there she goes. Now she is creeping along as she approaches a stand of bushes at the ridgeline. Now she is crawling on hand and knee. Oh golly, Miss Stephanie is peeking through a shrubbery. She just snatched back like she saw the ogre! Oh no! She is motioning for me to follow suit. Oh, I wish this suit weren’t so clanky. It ain’t worth a darn for sneaking up on somebody. Oh, now she wants me to get down and crawl forward. Oh, dang, I ain’t liking this a bit.”

“Take care, Sir Ichabod, yon lies the castle of the ogre!”

“Do I really have to go through with this?”

“Yes! Thirteen damsels languish under a horrible enchantment! You must save them! It is your Holy Quest, Sir Ichabod!”

“Well, if I gotta, I gotta, I reckon. I’ll just lift this stupid visor and take a peek. Hunh. All I’ve got to show for my surreptitious reconnoitering is a run down little pig farm.”

“Nay, t’is an enchantment! You are really looking upon a grand castle!”

“Uh, hunh. Um, that man and his two young sons?”

“T’is the ogre!”

“Gotcha. You wait for me with Miss Beemer, and I’ll be along with your imprisoned damsels in just a jiffy.”

“Bless you, my good, brave Sir Knight! God Bless thee on thy sacred and noble quest, Sir Ichabod!”

“Thanks, Ma’am. Let’s see, I’ll just clamber my way down this other side of the hill. There we go, that wasn’t so bad. Um, howdy y’all, please don’t be alarmed at my over-sized armour. I was wondering if you would be interested in parting with a portion of your livestock? Yessir, I was wanting about twelve, no, thirteen good hogs, please. Here you go, here’s a small fortune in spare change for the piggies. You all have a nice day, now, you hear?”

“All hail our returning hero! Let us all sing his praises!”

Oh, Ichabod!

He can do,

what no-one else can!

Oh, Ichabod!

It is he,

who art the man!

Let every bell be rung!

Singing out from every tongue!

Join our chorus, let it be sung!

Or we’ll throw you in a heap of dung!

Oh, Ichabod! Ichabod!

“Ha! Wherefore ist the Quest-Wench?”

“Forsooth,
here
I am, oh beloved monarch of our glorious England! I, Stephanie Tartt O’Plum, art here in these gathered masses of thine adoring subjects! What wouldst thou have of me, oh gracious majesty that is our noble Liege, King Arthur? Ask of me what thy will, my King! Let it be done!”

“I would have thee tell me the deeds of Sir Ichabod! I ask my loyal subjects that pack this merry hall and pile up on the Round Table, wouldst thee all care to hear the tale of our own good Knight, our own Sir Ichabod?!”

{   {   {  “Yes!”  }  }  }

“Ha, ha! There you have it, my lovely child that art so pleasing in every way, let this be a command performance! I, your King, and your fellow countrymen beg of thee, oh, stunning Stephanie, favour us with your tale!”

“Hooray!”

“Forsooth my King, I relish the opportunity to sing the praises of my champion! Lo’ ours was a journey fraughtte with danger from start to finish! Many the lesser Knight wouldst be sent running! Yes! Baughtte did our brave Ichabod shirk his duty?”

“No!”

“I should sayeth naughtte! Nay, for even as evil enchantments soughtte out our poor Sir Ichabod from the moment we left Camelot, ne’er did our noble lad turn from his Holy Quest!”

~nuk, nuk, nuk~

“Your snicking of tongues against the roofs of your many mouths is well snicked, for our enemies beseeched our noble Knight with unceasing torment!”

“No!”

“Yes! Eaten alive by swarms of demon insects!”

“Hhuh!”

“Involuntary over-familiarity with rude vermin!”

“Hhuh!”

“Corrosive acid in his eyes!”

“Hhuh!”

“Near drowning!”

“Hhuh!”

“Famine!”

“Hhuh!”

“Thirst!”

“Hhuh!”

“Inclement weather!”

“Hhuh!”

“He defeated the Great Sorceress Morgana Le Meerrin in magic battle!”

“Hhuh!”

“He defied her most devilish charms and sent her scurrying away in fear!”

“Hhuh!”

“He defeated a tremendous wizard from mystic and exotic realms, the Great Mischa himself!”

“Hhuh!”

“Dost thou naughtte believest me? Behold! Look upon the strange menagerie of Sir Ichabod and tremble at the horrible beasts that lay within!”

“Hhuh!”

“Baughtte Stephanie, what of the ogre?”

“Yes! The ogre! The ogre!”

“Hear ye now the tale of brave Sir Ichabod! Strong of heart and noble in spirit, the brave Sir Ichabod didst assault the castle of the dread ogre! Lo, the foul beast be sore afraid! Yea, he layest up in yon castle and hopeth the gallant Knight wouldst leave him be, but
did
he leave him be?”

“No!”

“Verily, thou mayst betteth thy sweet bippeth he doth naughtte! Yea, he smaiteeth and smyteth yon castle until it crumbled before his angry sword. Yea, the ogre tried to pull foul tricksies and enchantments on the brave, good Knight, but the good Sir Ichabod didst Smite the giant to the ground and with one mighty blow, didst the brave Knight remove the heads a thrice.”

“Hhuh! Yay!”

“The damsels are none other than my own sisters, aunts, and cousins that languish still under cruel enchantments, but will soon be right as rain. I rub their soft round snouts and pedi their hooves in preparation that their re-transformation is soon at hand.”

“Awww.”

“A wonderful tale my lovely child! Let us all sing out in praise of Ichabod!

“Hooray!”

Oh Ichabod!

A mighty warrior is what he be!

Oh, Ichabod!

Defeating ogres with heads of three!

A foolish Wizard, took the wrong tone.

So too a Sorceress, casting spells of stone.

He laid them low and now they moan.

He’s our hero down to the bone,

Oh, Ichabod!

Oh, Ichabod!

Oh, Mighty Ichabod!

“All of Camelot rejoices at the great adventures of Sir Ichabod! I, Arthur, your beloved King, wouldst hear the tale of brave Sir Ichabod! Doth mine subjects agree?”

“Yes!”

“Aw, come on, y’all, we’ve already heard Miss Stephanie tell the story six times already. That’s just today, and we’ve been back for a week! We must have been through this ballad a hunnerd times! How long do y’all usually keep up this kind of celebration, Sire?”

“A long time, Ichabod, but if thou art weary, we can take a brief time of rest. Hear ye, hear ye! Your King commands that there be a halt to the celebration! Everybody taketh five minutes and we’ll reconveneth at such time to pick back up where we left off. Please remember your places and the sense of merriment that we are attempting to create.”

“Thank you, Sir, you’re a real pal, my Liege.”

“Of course, Ichabod. You are one of my favourite subjects, don’t you know.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m gonna walk around back behind the podium and stretch my legs, your Highness.”

“You are excused, Ichabod.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just slip off over here and nobody will notice me...”

“I sayeth, thank the Heavens that you called for that pause in the celebrations, m’lord. I think another chorus of singing your praises would have done me in! Keep Artie distracted as long as you can, I am going to go lie down and rest for a moment, prithee, call me should they get going without me, eh hem?”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, you go on and lie down and get some rest. I’ll stretch things out as long as I can and give you a whistle as a heads up.”

“Thank you, Sir Ichabod.”
~curtsy~

~gulp~

“Let’s see, I’m gonna try wandering over this way to see if I can find a spot where I can just set alone for a min...”

“Ooooooh,
there
you are, Ichabod, we have been looking all over for you, isn’t that right, my fellow maidens?”

“Oooooooh, finally, he doesn’t have that stupid quest-
wench
with him.”

“Ooooooh, truly we desire to
soothe
the brave Knight after his arduous battles.”

“Ooooooh, and we art most keen to give thee a thorough examination of any scarring thou may have,
anywhere
it may happen to be.”

“That’s mighty considerate of you friendly, healthy, robust maidens, but uh, I have, um, duties I gotta see to, yeah, that’s it. How about you gals throwing some of that soothing and comforting over Spyke’s way?”

“Thanks, Icky! Thou art the man!”

“Sir Ichabod, I would speak with you, sir.”

“Oh my Goodness, Sir Launcelot! I can’t believe you even know who I am! I am
such
a big fan of yours! I’ve seen all your bouts! I watch all your jousts! I have a certified-authentic, official woodcut poster on my wall! I think you are just
terrific
, Sir!”

“Thank you, Sir Ichabod, for I am an admirer of your dauntless deeds, as well, Sir.”

“Golly, gee, wow, that’s really swell, Sir Launcelot. Um, is there something I can do for you?”

“Oui, Ichabod, I beg thee allow me to confide in thee. You are naughtte like any other of this court. I sense no malice, nor self-serving machinations in thy character. Thou art as pure in heart as myself, maybe more so.”

“Gosh!”

“Ichabod, give me your word, as a Knight of the Round Table! Give me your word that you will not break my confidence!”

“Oh my Goodness! I would never break my word with you, Sir Launcelot! You are the shining example all Knights aspire to! I promise, I won’t say nothing to nobody you don’t want me to! What happens in Camelot, stays in Camelot.”

“I had hoped you would feel that way. Dear friend, I have allowed myself to fall into the deepest of treacheries! T’was only through my own efforts of purity that I fell victim to passion’s call! Truly I love my King! Arthur is more than my King, he is my best friend! I love Guenevere as an honour to him, but now the love of the Queen has grown too much! Her love consumes me. I can’t get her out of my mind! At first, it was as one may love a sister, but soon I could only see her face, so fair. My dreams are always filled with her gentle features smiling at me. Long, soft, silky hair falling about her bare shoulders. Golden skin glows from her naked body...”

“Uh, Sir Launcelot?”

“...glistening in the moonlight. Her soft flesh calls to me. I cannot resist! The more I struggle, the more I swell with desire! Harder and harder, I fight against temptation but I must have her! Lust is my compass! The castle of her being must be penetrated! My body is a battering ram! Again and again and again and again I hurl myself against the gates of the Queen’s keep. The dreams of her flesh now infest my waking mind! I cannot escape! I must have her! I cannaughtte have her! I am cursed! What am I to do! Sir Ichabod, I am tortured, mon ami, tortured!”

“Gee, whiz, Sir Launcelot, I don’t know!”

“Well, sleep on it and get back to me.”

“Yessir.”

“Gee, that was kind of awkward, uh oh, here comes Guenevere! I’m gonna see if I can’t just slip away unnoticed.”

“Ho, hum, dum-dee, dum.”

~whistle, whistle, whistle-dee, whistle~

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry, excuse me, Sir Ichabod?”

“Hm? Oh, right, Queen Guenevere, I didn’t see you. Nice day, hunh? See you later.”

“Oh, no, wait, Sir Ichabod, I wish to speak with thee.”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry my Queen, you see, uh, I got to see a man about a,
NO!
Uh, I mean I should be, uh...”

“Oh, please, Sir Ichabod.”

“Well, you see, I need to be, uh...”

“Oh...”

“Oh, gosh, uh, prithee, how may I serve thee my Queen, Ma’am?”

“Oh Ichabod, you are naughtte like the other members of court. Oh, how they gossip! Like great grist mills they churn out their slander! Courtesans’ tongues wag to fan each other in the summer heat methinks! It makes me so angry! I have never laid a finger on his luscious body! Naughtte once have I dived into that big pool of studly glory that is the buff-boy of my dreams, Sir Launcelot! Who could blame a girl for wanting a piece of that stallion! I am a Queen but I am a woman too! I have needs! I have desires! Don’t get me wrong! I love my King and I love my country! Arthur is a good man and a good husband. The sex is great! It’s naughtte that, it’s that even in the act of physical love, some part of him is off being a King. When the moment comes for the King to espouse, it is England in his heart and mind. With Launcelot it’s different. Launcelot wants me as no man has ever desired a woman! Launcelot undresses me with his eyes. I am naked under his penetrative vision. I feel his burning gaze and it in turn sets my own passion ablaze. Oh, how I long for him! The curl of hair about his fair face. Oh, how I could lick whipped cream from his tanned, shaven, muscular chest. I telleth thee true, Sir Ichabod, I could ride that horse all night long! Kuh-boingy-boingy-boingy...”

“Queen Guenevere!”

“Hunh? Merry, perhaps I am getting carried away. Now, you must promise me, naughtte a word to the King! Do you promise?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Nor to Launcelot!”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good. Methinks I shall go have a massage.”

“Good idea, Ma’am.”

“Gee, that was strange. I better get out of here before I run into...King Arthur! Hi sir, um, what are you doing back here?”

“I was looking for the Queen, you haven't seen her come through here have you?”

“Oh, gosh, there have been so many fine folks coming through here...”

“Yes, of course. Er, you did naughtte happen to notice Sir Launcelot by any chance did you?”

“Oh, well, maybe, hard to say, you know.”

“Do you know the chap I mean? Tall fellow, handsome, muscular, charming, graceful, brave honourable and true?”

“Um, oh yeah, that guy. Yessir, I may have seen him come through.”

~sigh~

“Are you all right, Sire?”

“This is a burden that I alone must bear. No, actually, I think I may feel better if I have someone to confide in. That’s the trouble with being King, don’t you see? It is so hard to find a person that one is comfortable in confiding in. Then again, you are not like the other members of Court, Ichabod. You have an irrepressible innocence that invites confidence. I think that I
can
share with you Ichabod, but no, I think I prefer naughtte to.”