The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) (18 page)

“Catapults to the left of me, trebuchet to my right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you, mother dearest.”

“Lovely Mordred, let us see how siege tower progression is advancing on this next side of Camelot.”

“Oh, good, look, mother! I did naughtte know that
two
towers were being built on this side of the castle! Wonderful, this is just
too
delicious! There is no
way
those few can defend so much castle with so few defenders!”

“Do you really mean to say there are only twelve people inside? One, the King, is infirm and cannot raise his head, much less a sword in defense. He only has one Knight, Launcelot, to call on. True, Launcelot is formidable, but even he cannot face an army alone and even in a castle, he is unable to defend it by himself. We cannot consider the knave, Ichabod, as a true Knight. Then there is that skanque, the Queen, the Quest-Wench and the six nuns. Wait mother, that is only eleven. Who are we forgetting?”

“Yes, let me see, let me see... Oh, yes! Of course! The little page-boy, Spyke! He looks just like that traitorous Slyck, that ran away from my castle HamSpanx. I shall
boil
that boy to make
stew
for the dogs!”

“Oh, mumsy, you’re so cute! Let us continue our inspection of the siege, shall we? Ah, and now we are back around to the front of the castle and the main assault against the front drawbridge gate.”

“Oh, Mordred, look how the siege towers of our assault are starkly outlined in silhouette against the backdrop of a Camelot in flames. Sporadic catapult launches of burning destruction trace graceful arcs across the sky. Such lovely,  soothing sights, are they naughtte, my beautiful son?”

“Yes, mommy, quite so. You know I have always been torn between wanting to take Camelot for myself, or burn it to the ground. I think I like our present course.”

“Yes, let us burn Camelot, together, Mordred!”

“I have heard many people speak of how young you appear, mumsy. I concur. In the light of Camelot’s flames, your skin glows with fire. You are magnificent in your steel bodice battle gear. Yes, thou are absolutely ravishing my mother.”

“We seemeth as brother and sister, methinks my sweet boy. Come my son, give your sister a kiss.”

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“Ah, Spyke, oui, there you are, as I have my hands full defending this, the front of the castle, you will tell me how the nuns are faring.”

“Right, Sir Larry! Sister Mercy is without mercy! Sister Chastity chastises with impunity! Twisted Sister is a rock heaving honey! Sister Agony is spreading it around. Sister Sorrow is sharing her sadness in a sticks and stones sort of way, and Sister Charity sends all of her opponents home to begin again.”

“Ah, baughtte how long can we hold out? Naughtte long I am thinking, oui?”

“Wee.”

“Where is Sir Ichabod? He is needed on the ramparts!”

“He said he had an idea and ran off to his workshop. That was several hours ago. I have not seen him since.”

“Look there, Spyke, it is the sorceress and her ill-favoured prince.”

“Do you mean Mistress Morgana is out there, now? Get out of the way Spyke, I want to see.”

“Guenevere! You must naughtte be out here, my love! It is far too dangerous! Go back and tend to our King!”

“I can do nothing more for him at this time. I come here to the battlements to fight alongside of you, my love, but the sight of that horrible woman moves me to speak.”

“Morgana, you horrible old crone! I see you have been dipping into the waters of unnatural longevity again, dear. Just how elderly
are
you these days, old woman?”

“
Hsssk!
Guenevere, you limp dishrag! How
dare
you address me in such a way! Everybody knows I’m naughtte a day over... Nevermind!”

“Pardon me for saying so, baughtte thou art too old to wear an outfit like that, you hag.”

“
Hrr-Reerall!
I’m about to bring that castle down about thine ears and shall eat thy heart, wench! In fact, let me say it like this:”

I travel through time,

and Ether’s space.

Make no mistake,

I sayeth to thy face,

Thee be a miserable Queen,

thy features bitter and mean.

Thou thinks I’m a public scene,

Envy doth turn thee green,

because

Guenevere’s the pupil,

Morgana the Dean.

Thy skin all covered up.

A passionless buttercup.

don’t stop me now,

I’m just revving up

I’m here to see thee fail.

Forgive me if I wail,

baughtte if thou want a grail,

Take a sip from my D cup.

Thou callest my steel unikini obscene,

baughtte the lads are keen,

and I love to be seen,

in the rare,

in the buff,

I’m a diamond,

in the rough,

Thou hast no substance.

Thee be all fluff.

My rhymes doth sting,

I’m dripping with bling

Morgana is your Mistress,

and Mordred shall be King!

“Bravo, mumsy! Word, to my mother, yough.”

“Thee be full of tricks, Morgana, however, I would beg thee to lend me one of thy pierced ears:”

A Queen must have class,

thou knows only to show thine ass.

Thou art a walking wardrobe malfunction,

What you wear don’t keep your junk in.

Thou must have had a lobotomy

I’m glad you thought of me.

You and the boy,

the front and back of incestuosity

right in front of me,

a curiosity,

a peculiar singularity,

of disgusting-osity

I don’t know whether to:

Laugh.

Cry.

Cringe.

Fly.

That boy art:

whack-jack

paddy-whack

spin round once

and stab him in the back.

That creepy kid will never rule.

His lips will ever drool,

His scrawny neck I’ll wring.

For Arthur is our King!

Guenevere is the diva of highest rank.

Give it up, toots,

You’re an over-hexed, metal bra wearing psycho-skanque.

“
Hrr-reerl!
You will pay for those ill-conceived words, you little rag-mop!”

“Somebody get the Mistress some talc, she is beginning to chafe.”

“Shut-up!”

“Now she’s getting all sweaty. That will make her lingerie rust.”

“Shu-up, Guenevere, this is my time! I am destroying you!”

“Are you really, I thought that was just mindless screeching.”

“
Reeeeerl!
Attack my armies! Attack and slay that insolent wench that was your Queen!”

“Launcelot, there are too many! Armoured Knights surmount the walls faster than thee can clear them!”

“Mon Dieu, Sacre Bleu, and my curly hair too, there are quite a lot of fellows for me to fight, I think.”

“Launcelot, beware! The fearsome Gunther GravenHurlle has breached the wall!”

“Die, you French Goodie-Goodie! It is time some real strength and power ruled this land. I have wanted to kill you for a long time, Launcelot. Now, none shall ever doubt, who is the greatest and strongest of Knights.”

“Oui, Sir Gunther, I too have known that this rendezvous between you and me was inevitable.”

“Once I destroy you, I will find that little worm, Ichabod. He ruined my undefeated streak! He will be the main course in my victory feast!”

“No, Sir Gunther, Sir Ichabod is a friend of mine. You must pass through me to get to him.”

“That was the plan, you fancy frog.”

“Oh, Spyke, Launcelot is weary from his long battles and Gunther is fresh for the fight! Launcelot shall be slain!”

“Nah, don’t you worry, me Queen Genni, Launcelot is too noble of a Knight to allow himself to fall before one as ignoble as Gunther. Uh, oh, one of Gunther’s lackeys crawled up behind Launcelot, tripping him up and making him fall! Launcelot is defenseless and cannot avoid Gunther’s death strike!”

“Hah! Die, Sir Launcelooooooooooooooo
o
o
ot
!...”

“Mon Dieu, what is this? Sir Gunther, he flew away! To what do my wondering eyes are the appearing? Another attacking Knight is lifted into the air! Now he is being roughly smashed against the castle wall before being flung far out amongst his besieging fellows! There goes another Knight to whom is being lifted up and away from me! I may yet live! Oh, how one after another, the poor fellows are rudely cast against the cruel walls to fall into Camelot’s moat. What is this miracle that flings enemy Knights hither and anon, eh?”

“Howdy, Mr. Sir Launcelot, sir, t’is I, Sir Ichabod, with my latest invention!”

“A good thing it is to see you mon ami, oui? Your accoutrement baffles me. You are wearing a bar of iron! This bar, it is bent in a shape reminiscent of the letter ‘U’. It is obviously heavy as you must suspend the weight by means of straps suspended from thy shoulders, such as they are.”

“Yessir, it’s heavy, all right.”

“You stand in the center of the space created by the ‘U’. This lies flat, or horizontal to the ground. The open end is toward your unlucky foes. From the two ends of your iron bar, at intervals of great activities between peaceful pauses, the parallel ends will glow bright with a bluish, white light! This tumbling, jumble of energies is then stridently slung out at your mighty foes from whence thee cast them unto oblivion as so many birds before a storm. Surely this is a miracle of Heaven above.”

“Nossir, it’s really rather simple. You see I have a little steam powered generator on a cart that I am pulling behind me on a leash. This is energizing both sides of my magnet. The directional accumulator allows me to focus the effect of the incredible magnetic forces I am generating. With it, I can lift an armoured Knight from a hunnerd yards.”

“Do you have some endearment for the device?”

“Yessir, I call it my Magno-beam-O-rator.”

“Enh, needs work, monsieur.”

“Yessir.”

“Sir Ichabod! The nuns on the other walls are being over-run by steely Knights!”

“Don’t you worry none, Spyke, I’ll put a stop to this bad nonsense with some good nunsense!”

“You’ve done it, Sir Icky! You hath cast the armoured villains from every wall!”

“This is good my friend. Well done, Sir Ichabod.”

“Aw, anybody would have done the same thing.”

“I do naughtte agree, mon ami. Since your arrival, you have shown compassion for your foes. In your duels with Merlin and Gunther, you spared the lives of men that had only murder in their hearts for thee. The same may be said in the construction of thy steam carriage. A lesser man would have made of your ‘Miss Beemer’ a traveling abattoir, with the blades aswirl, I think. So too, the castle defender thinks naughtte of his attackers’ safety. You do naughtte hesitate to hesitate in taking a life, Sir Ichabod. I am confident that chivalry and the highest of the Round Table ideals does in fact survive through the ages if you are any example, young man.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir Launcelot. Now please excuse me, there is an especially obstreperous fellow that needs contending with. I think I will magnorate and use him to buffet his fellows.”

“I approve of this method, oui.”

“
Hsssk!
What is happening? My army is in retreat! Come back and fight, you cowards!”

“Oh, mother, you have bungled my ascension! How
could
you! I simply
must
be King!
Do
something, mommy!”

“Yes, I must do something, baughtte what to do? My army has fled. I only have you, my lovely Mordred.”

“I said,
do
something, mother!”

“My resources are limited...”

“I don’t care! I said,
do
something!”

“My beautiful Mordred, are you sure you want this so badly?”

“Yes,
mother
, I
said
I wanted to be King and I
meant
it!”

“You will do anything to be King?”