The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) (13 page)

“Ha, ha, ha!”

“Sorry folks, we can’t stand around and taunt these vermin all day. I shall now go ahead and have them both gagged so that we are no longer subject to the foolish wagging of their dead man tongues. No, just gag the big one, we’ll stick a big apple in the mouth of the little one. Ha, yes, that’s fine. Look at the awful little fellow! His eyes are swollen with the effort at continued communication. What’s that? You still maintain your innocence and this man’s royal station, eh? Well that’s just fine, boy. Is it just me, or does this lad with the apple in his gormhole dangling by this rope about his neck naughtte convey the impression of a carp on a line?”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

“Enough playing around, let us get down to business. All I have to do now is pull this lever and the trapdoor will fall out from beneath these two noosed criminals and then we can go.”

“Is everyone ready?”

“Yes!”

“Does anybody have any second thoughts or misgivings?”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

“No!”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

“Bon voyage, boys, I’m pulling the lever, now!”

~snick~

“What happened? Nothing is happening? Why is nothing happening? Blast it, the trapdoor is malfunctioning. Somebody get under there and give it a whack. Don’t go away, folks, we’ll have this trouble sorted out in no time... Hello, what’s this? Everybody doff your hats! A contingent of Knights from Camelot are headed this way!”

“Hold this proceeding. I am Sir Launcelot, of King Arthur’s Round Table. We are searching for someone. You may remain kneeling, but I command that you all raise your faces to me. I wouldst look into thy eyes and thus see into thy souls. If anyone of you are capable of the crime I fear, I shall surely see it written there. Guenevere and Stephanie, I invite you to assist me in weighing the virtue of this murderous lot.”

“Lo, I cannot fathom any in this assembly to have the wherewithal to commit such a heinous act, Sir Launcelot.”

“Thank you, my Queen. What say you, Stephanie?”

“I sayeth, no, it is difficult to imagine this gathering of peasants committing the crime we fear. Oh, speaking of criminals, be sure to look into the faces of the two condemned men in the gallows. They may be the very culprits we seek. Verily there is something familiar about those knaves... Great Goose Pudding! It’s them!”

“My senses tell me the first of my visitors has entered the keep. Escort him into my presence immediately!”

“Yes, Mistress!”

“Ah, Mistress Morgana Le Meerrin, what an exquisite honour it is to be invited into your dreadful castle, my blonde, black clad, black artist. Your mortuarian manour is a monument to morbidity, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mischa. Please let me say what an honour it is to be hostess to the Great Mischa Mauer. I hope your acceptance of my invitation proves profitable to us all.”

“‘All’ of us’? There are but the two of us, my ravishing beauty. I have traveled the world over, and never have I beheld such a woman as you! Your magnificent body strains at your close fitting black gown in an attempt to escape its clutches. I approve of the image I fix in my mind, that is, of the two of us. You are a good complement to my own, tall, svelte form.”

“You flatter yourself, Mischa. I did naughtte call you here to answer passion’s call of the flesh.”

~
whih
-
keeesh!
~

“That fortuitously timed strike of lightning must be to signify the arrival of the next member of this meeting! Yes, there he is!”

“Good evening, Morgana!”

“Welcome to Castle HamSpanx, oh, Great Merlin!”

“I have long awaited the time you and I would be together, Morgana.”

“Art I a pleasing figure to fill thy dreams, oh great wizard?”

“A dream to some, a nightmare to others!”

“What is
he
doing here, Morgana?”

“No, what art
thou
doing here, Mischa?”

“
I
was invited!”

“No you weren’t,
I
was invited!”

“Gentlemen, you are both here at my behest, and further, I have no romantic intentions for either of you. That’s what slaves are for.”

“Then why bring us? We are all competitors.”

“Do you naughtte see that our positions are in danger? That miserable little ‘Ichabod’ creature is ruining our place in this kingdom! We must annihilate him!”

“Agreed, but how? He has bested us all.”

“You are both my enemies, baughtte as we now fight a common foe, I say we form a temporary truce. My enemy’s enemy is my friend, so to speak. For the nonce, in any case.”

“I, the Great Mischa, hate you both, baughtte I also respect you. The Ichabod creature I despise! I will work with you as brother and sister to defeat this miscreant!”

“That little worm has defied me at every turn! He destroyed my castle! He usurped my position! He made me look a fool! I, the Great Merlin of Camelot, will join with you two in order to destroy the insipid interloper.”

“Good! Then I, Mistress Morgana Le Meerrin, do also pledge my self to the defilement, destruction and discretization of that lowly leech. I propose that we form our pledge into a bond; this shall be the modified coven of ‘Morgana, Mischa and Merlin’.”

“Naughtte quite. I prefer the cabal of ‘Merlin, Morgana, and Mischa’.”

“No, this shall be the conclave of ‘Mischa, Merlin, and Morgana’.”

~sigh~
“Let us settle for addressing ourselves as the ‘Three M’ Corpouration.”

“Settled! We three black magic magicians do hereby pledge to do all in our power to slay the Great Ichabod!”

A merry man are you,

and a merry man am I,

yea, merry, merry men are we.

Our King is newly foun’

his head safe beneath its crown,

and everything is as it should be!

Oh, Camelot!

Rejoice and sing!

Oh, Camelot!

Arthur is our King!

Secret missions he doth take,

adventure’s thirst he cannot slake.

He’s a great big slice of cake,

Arthur the rowdy, randy, rake!

From the mountain to the harbour,

This country loves Her King Arthur!

Royalty as his you cannot fake,

Chosen by the Lady of the Lake.

His searing heat will surely bake,

he is far more than I can take!

Oh, Camelot!

No need to go farther

Oh, Camelot!

You are at home King Arthur!

“Gee, I sure am glad everything turned out all right, your Highness. It’s good to see you at the head of your Round Table surrounded by your Knights and Court and all the merry minstrels and courtesans and whatnots.”

“Ha! Indeed, these are good times, my lad!”

“Harken, my King, I doth hear the distant calls of an approaching fanfare.”

“Verily, t’is true! With great fervor a great procession can be tracked by its eruption of horny heralds! The bugle’s blast follows behind a mighty wind blowing through Castle Camelot!”

“And now the great doors of this great hall are thrown open with impunity!”

“Good Knight in the morning, it’s Gunther!”

“Gunther!”

“Aye, t’is I, Gunther GravenHurlle! Verily, I am sad to report that I was unable to find the ever elusive Holy Grail; however, I did manage to take several villages’ worth of prisoners, livestock, and loot. I sent them around to the back of the castle.”

“Sir Gunther! Well met, are you! I, your loving King, Arthur, do hereby welcome you back to Camelot! All Hail Sir Gunther!”

“Hooray!
Hail, Sir Gunther.
”

“Thank you, Sire. I ask, of thee, ist the varlet prepared?”

“Ha! Sir Gunther, I have good news! Yes, Sir Ichabod is now a tried and true member of this august association. I approve him of battle with you sir!”

“Thank you, Sire!”

“Hooray!”

“Uh, but, I was hoping we’d all just sort of let things slide, since I never really did say anything bad about Sir Gunther.”

“Tut, tut, boy, take your medicine.”

“Yessir.”

“It is settled then! The day after tomorrow, we shall have our duel. A noble joust between two Knights. Sir Ichabod the foolhardy, against returning hero, undefeated champion and twenty stone of death-man walking, Sir Gunther, ‘The Mauler’, GravenHurlle!”

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“Well, I reckon I’ve got about thirty-six hours to prepare. Do you have any suggestions, Ma’am?”

“I understand Paris is lovely this time of year.”

“Aw, c’mon, Miss Stephanie, be serious.”

“I am. I doth naughtte believe thou knowest what thee is up against, Sir Ichabod.”

“Well, he’s big, sure... but being big ain’t everything!”

“He is thought to be a hundred pounds greater in size than Launcelot, and Launcelot is a lot of man.”

“Yeah, I reckon when you picture me next to Launcelot and he being so much bigger, it’s almost that way between Launcelot and Gunther. Gosh, that Sir Gunther is a pretty stout feller all right, but it ain’t the size of the man in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the man, Ma’am.”

“Sir Gunther is a terrible apparition to behold in battle! Men that have fought alongside of the brute, weep in anguish to tell of the killing madness that takes Gunther in combat! He loses himself in a gruesome, killing, berzerker ecstasy!”

“Uhb.”

“Hast thou slain many men in battle, Sir Ichabod?”

“Um, well, not so much a lot of slaying as such.”

“Naughtte so with Sir Gunther! He has slain men uncounted in bloody combat! Going back many years, fearsome accounts of an inhuman blood rage taking the man grant him a legendary status! Casting aside his shield, he often prefers to grip sword in one hand and axe in the other and give himself over to the unholy frenzy of total submersion in the depths of a killing debauchery. He has been known to take trophies...”

“Okay, okay! You know, I ain’t real big, but I’m wiry! Back when the king and I were in a big brawl at the public house, I did all right. I like to scrap! I’m always wrasslin’ with my pals and I got a punch that I’ll make a man respect whether he wants to or not!”

“Eh hem, I see. And when thou dost grapple whilst wearing chain and plate armour?”

“Oh, uh, the armour usually wins.”

“Your horsemanship?”

“I like horsies!”

“Dost thou have much experience in handling war-chargers, eh hem? Thou knows how to wield a horse as weapon in field combat? Thou art experienced in removing gore from thy steed’s hooves, m’lord?”

“Um, no Ma’am, not so much.”

“Art thou highly skilled in the use of the lance?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Spear?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Glaive?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Sword?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Mace?”

“No, Ma’am.”

~sigh~
“T’was nice knowing thee, Ichabod.”

“Now, don’t you worry none, Miss Stephanie, I got me a secret weapon!”

“Dost thee? What is it?”

“It’s Spyke! I sent him over to Gunther’s training camp to see if he could garner any information that may prove useful to us. Hey, there he is now. Did you find anything out, Spyke?”

“I scouted out his encampment very thoroughly, Sir Icky!”

“Attaboy, Spyke! Did you get a look at his horse? I figure that will be an important part of the equation. You know, he might be inordinately scared of mice or something.”

“Oh did I see the horse! Great equestrian nightmares! The bloody beast is straight from Hades! He’s put three stable-men in the infirmary! All the other horses live in terror! All this horse can do is think about killing! Kill, kill, kill!”

“Gee, all the horsies I know are sweet. Maybe Sir Gunther ain’t gonna take a little fella like me seriously.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about whether he is taking you seriously or naughtte, Icksy! He has dozens of dummies made up in your image. With a fury I’ve never seen, the monster that is Gunther GravenHurlle revels in the death of these proxies.”

“Dang, I was hoping you would come back with some good news.”

“That was the good news.”

“Oh.”

“Right before I was leaving, as I could naughtte stand the practice carnage any longer, Sir Gunther received a visit from an important delegation.”

“The ladies reserve auxiliary for retired Knights trying to coax him into early retirement?”

“No, t’was three dark and scary magician types.”

“What were they doing?”

“Offering their assistance to Sir Gunther.”

“He is an honourable Knight! He will refuse their dark favours! He doesn’t need them anyway!”

“Gunther is no fool. He has heard of your uncanny ability to somehow squeak through the inescapable. He has accepted their black magics wholeheartedly as he has loudly pledged to naughtte allow thee to survive this encounter.”

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“Ha! Splendid day for a jousting duel, eh Guenevere?”

“Oh, yes, Arthur, my King! I am very much looking forward to this encounter!”

“Ha! So am I, my dear! It is shaping up to be an epic encounter it seems. What do you say, Launcelot?”

“I am afraid today’s bout has no appeal to me, your Highness. I am fond of the little fellow and it pains me to see him cut down by the great brute, Gunther.”

“I admit, he is more than just a little out-matched. This is sure to be a death sentence for Sir Ichabod. I will miss him most of all, I think.”

“Arthur, my friend and my King, I beg of thee, stop this bout and spare the lad’s life.”

“Yes, I must admit, I too, have developed a fondness for the boy, baughtte that is why I am so excited at his opportunity to die a glorious and noble death! Such a hero’s death is normally far away from the grasp of the common man, yet I feel most strongly that Ichabod be afforded this privilege. I know, I’m rather a soft-hearted old fool at times, baughtte I cannot help indulging my generous nature from time to time.”

“Thy art a gracious and generous king, my Lord.”

“Thank you, Launcelot. I understand Gunther has been unusually busy as he prepares for this encounter. A simple finger thump from a sleepy Sir Gunther seemeth enough to be done with the little field mouse. Your thoughts, Guenevere?”

“Methinks Gunther’s preparedness spills well into the overly kill-worthy pastures. He readies himself for this bout like no other before, my King.”

“I do naughtte understand these actions. Gunther has faced the finest warriors and defeated them all. Present company excluded of course, Launcelot.”

“Prithee, your Highness.”

“Why should Sir Gunther grant so much auspicious respect on our little Ichabod? He’s a brave lad, baughtte surely he cannaughtte hope to defeat such a war-proven, battle-hardened, blood-thirsty monster as Sir Gunther, can he?”

“Gunther would be most embarrassed at a loss to Sir Ichabod.”

“Ha! That must be it!”

“Ichabod has a purity that is very Knight-like, methinks. He may make a good showing of himself today, your Highness.

“Good for you, Launcelot! I admire your support of the less likely dog in the fight.”

“My King, I understand that Sir Gunther is aware of Sir Ichabod’s tenacity as concerns knack for continued life. He is taking no chances as he dearly loves his ‘undefeated’ status.”

“I often wonder why thou dost allow him to maintain such a boast, when all know that you are the superior Knight, Sir Launcelot.”

“That ‘title’ is a petty thing, when one places such a word over a man’s life.”

“Ha! You are the very embodiment of nobility, my friend. Once more, your code of chivalry is a shining hallmark of this kingdom, Sir Launcelot. I am given to understand that both combatants have been making vigorous, if unusual preparations for this meeting.”

“Tell, me, Arthur my King, has Ichabod, being as inexperienced as he is, received much training, and sage advice from experienced jousting champions, such as Sir Launcelot, here?”

“Ha! No my dear, it is my understanding that he has received not a whit of help from any quarter.”

“How strange, my King. I would have thought he would be in some field somewhere, getting training, practice and tips from experienced jousting Knights.”

“Oui, Ichabod has been locked away in his various workshops and the stables, lo, this past day and a half. I myself have gone by to offer my own experience to teach this novice, baughtte the boy graciously declined. I am told that he has commandeered the indoor riding arena, but he only has a few horses in there.”

“Does he do well with the big chargers?”

“He did naughtte requisition any such animal, Sire.”

“No charger! No training? Does he naughtte know the importance of a good jousting horse?”

“He did put some effort into horse selection, but none of the horses purchased are war-like.”

“No trainers?”

“No sire.”

“Beyond the normal preparations already spoken of, Sir Gunther has also taken unusual steps in that he has formed a strange alliance.”

“Ha! Yes, I have gotten wind of this unsettling development. The three famous magicians, Merlin, Morgana, and Mischa have all thrown their support behind Sir Gunther. Since Gunther fears he may be vulnerable to Ichabod’s magics, Gunther has chosen to ally himself with these powerful assistants, to shield himself from any marvels Ichabod may produce.”

“Oh, Arthur, my King, these exhibitions are ever so thrilling! From where we are on our viewing stand, in a field of billowing, colourful tents, the jousting lanes are set up to pass before us. The large, extended camp of Sir Gunther with his many supporters lies to our left, while the one, lonely, plain little tent of Sir Ichabod lies to our right. I wonder what’s going on in Sir Gunther’s tent right now?”

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