The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) (19 page)

“Yes!”

“
Any
thing?”

“Yes!”

“Even, … forgive me?”

“Yes! … Hunh?”

From deep within,

the Earth’s crust,

elements lay hidden,

Royalty’s dust.

Give this boy strength,

let a giant flower,

fill this vessel,

with Britain’s power.

No mortal blade shall slay thee!

Yon fortress wall shall now be forded!

Take this castle! Kill her King!

Do it all for me!

You are now invincible,

rise,

my King Mordred!

“Yes, mother, yes! I feel it! I have strength surging through my veins! I feel as if I am invincible! I
am
invincible! I am strong! I am the strongest! I shall take that castle and slay Arthurrrrrrrglk. I am growing so strong! I am getting bigger and stronger! I am taller! My armour!
It restrains me!
I am being squeezed within!
No, I shall rip it off! Yes, I have the strength!
I
rip off this armour.
A
rmour hurt.
A
rmour hurt
M
or-dred.
M
or-dred.
M
or-dred hurt!
M
or-dred in terrible pain!
M
or-dred can naughtte stop growing!
Mother! Make stop! Pain!”

“Slay the King my son! Take the castle!”

“Castle. Castle mine. Tear down. Kill King. Kill father. Kill. Kill. Kill...”

“Yes, Mordred, tear the castle down! Kill all within! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

“Sir Launcelot! Morgana has cast a terrible spell on Mordred! His features are changed. His has grown into a grotesque, green, scaly, twenty foot tall gorgon!”

“Sir Ichabod, use your device on that giant that attacketh!”

“It ain’t gonna work on him, Sir Launcelot, he ain’t wearing no armour!”

“Oh, my Goodness, he’s climbing up the outside of the siege tower! Sir Launcelot, he’s coming your way! He’s coming up over the top!”

“Oui, come to me, bastard prince. Let Sir Launcelot welcome you to castle Camelot. For Arthur, Britain, and all that is sacred in this world, I strike thee
down
foul demon!”

“
Eek!
”What hast thy done to my son?”

“I have separated his head from his body, Mademoiselle.”

“Kill...”

“Yikes! That head is still alive!”

“Just stay away from it, Ichabod, it cannaughtte hurt you if you stay out of reach from its snapping jaw.”

“What about the body?”

“Good question. Let us take a look over the ramparts and see, oui?”

“Oh, thank Goodness, Sir Launcelot, the body is dead. It is floating in the moat. Hey, I think it moved. Yes, it is definitely twitchy. It is splashing around trying to get its bearings and comprehend its surroundings. That’s got to be hard, when you ain’t got a head to see, smell, taste, nor think with.”

“What is that pounding I hear?”

“That is Mordred’s huge, misshapen body pounding on the drawbridge gate. The moat is ten or twelve feet deep, so the water only comes up to about mid-chest. He is reaching up to pound on the bottom of the drawbridge, but it is an easy reach.”

“Does he have any chance of getting inside the castle?”

“He is big strong and awfully determined. I’d say where there is a will there’s a way, so we can probably expect him to beat his way in momentarily. No, wait a second, something is happening to the creature. It shudders and threatens to lose its balance. There is a bulge in his neck hole where his head was. It is slowly but steadily getting larger. No, wait a second, there is another lump growing up out of the... No, make that three large lumps growing from Mordred’s neck-hole.”

“Ichabod, Guenevere, Stephanie, y’all go to King Arthur and get him out another way. I will defy this monster as long as I have life.”

“No, Launcelot. Ichabod, you and Stephanie go and help the King. I will stay here and fight alongside Sir Launcelot.”

“But...”

“As your Queen, I command it!”

“Yes, Ma’am! Hey, Miss Stephanie,... Miss Stephanie! Wow, you changed your outfit!”

~sigh~
“It’s too bad that Morgana stole a bit of my thunder with her disgraceful steel bathing suit, baughtte I think this suggestive, form-fitting curassse and short skirt with greaves are both battle-worthy
and
adorable, don’t you think, Sir Ichabod?”

~gulp!~
“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Oh!
Thank
you, Sir Ichabod!”

~gulp!~
“Erp, we better scoot along and save our King, Ma’am.”

“Roight! Follow me!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“King Arthur, we must get you to safety!”

“What?...”

“Quit being so groggy! We have to run!”

“I hear the voice of Ichabod, from somewhere afar... Ichabod, are you there?”

“Sire! King Arthur! It’s me, Ichabod! Can’t you feel me yanking on your arm? We have to get you out of here!”

“Did … you … find the grail?”

“No Sire, but Mordred has been turned into a terrible monster and is going to kill you! We have to run right now!”

“Mordred? My son? Here?”

“Unfortunately, yes, so let’s go.”

“I would see him. Bring him to me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, your Majesty. Even Launcelot cannot stay this creature.”

“Launcelot? Guenevere? Ichabod? Is that you? Did you find the grail?”

“No Sire, I did not find the Holy Grail.”

“Ichabod, find for me, that which has been lost. Find for me, the Holy Grail.”

“Oh, please Sire, we gotta go!”

“Ichabod, you are my purest of Knights! I task thee. Find for me, that which is lost. As a Knight of the Round Table, I task you with this Holy Quest.”

“Oh, but this ain’t a real good time to go Grailing or Questing nor such, Sire.”

“Ichabod...”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Find the Holy Grail...”

“But your Highness!”

“I task thee, ... Ichabod...”

“Oh no, please don’t.”

“Find the Holy Grail. That is your Quest.”

“Oh, my king, I can’t do it!”

“I, Arthur, task you, my friend...”

“Oh, Arthur!”

“Ichabod...”

“There ain’t no dang Grail, Sire! Every Knight in tarnation has been searching for that silly old Grail! Don’t you think they would have found it by now! Is this some noble snipe hunt from the dark ages! There ain’t no Holy Grail! Now we have to run!”

“Ichabod, only a Knight of true innocence can find the Grail. I task you with the Quest of the Hoy Grail.”

“Oh, Sire, I’m sorry. I wish could find your Grail for you but time has run out. We need to withdraw from the castle, sir.”

“It is naughtte in my character, to retreat, Sir
Ichabod..
.”

“King Arthur? King Arthur? Can you hear me?”

  .  .  .

“Oh your Majesty, please don’t slip away! You are growing dark, sir, please don’t go! Your Majesty! Wake up! Your Highness! Don’t leave us! We need you! Arthur! My friend! Please don’t die, you just can’t! Why has it grown so dark in here? Arthur! Arthur! Don’t die,
please!
Oh, no, no, no, don’t go! Arthur! Sire! Your majesty, please! .  .  . Oh my king, why have you and this room grown so dark? Why do you seem so far away? . . . Arthur? . Sire? . I can’t see anything. Everything is so dark. . Wait, . . is there a mote of light? I see a speck of light, far away. No, it’s getting closer, it’s getting brighter. The light is so close! The light is so bright! It’s here! It’s right here! It was here all along! Sire! I see it! I see the Holy Grail! Oh, Sire, I see it as plain as the light of day! The Holy Grail is here! It is
you!
King Arthur,
you
are the Holy Grail! You are the embodiment of this age! You are the last link of magic in the kingdom! There is something special and magical in you that makes you more than King! Oh, my King! King Arthur, I have found the Holy Grail and it is
YOU!!!
”

“Ichabod?
Ichabod?
The Grail?
I?
I am the Grail? Can this be? I, Arthur, the Holy Grail?
I am the Grail. I am the Grail! I
am
the Grail!
Ichabod!
You found it! You saved me! You have saved England!”

“We ain’t out of the fire yet, Sire, I gotta get you out of here!”

“Help me up. Where is Launcelot?”

“He is at the gate engaged in deadly combats with a terrible monster. Your son, I am sorry to report. Sir Launcelot told me to get you to safety.”

“Where is Guenevere?”

“With Sir Launcelot, Sire.”

“I see. Get me to the scene of battle. Stephanie, be a good lass and fetch me my sword.”

“Yes, your Majesty!”

“Your Majesty, I was told to get you out a back way.”

“I have never run from a fight, Ichabod. I have no intention of learning new tricks at this stage of my life.”

“But you can barely stand!”

“That will have to suffice.”

“I hear combat up ahead, gentlemen.
Eek!
Guenevere has been knocked down and Launcelot desperately tries to fight off Mordred!”

“Woah! Holy three-headed ogres! The monster that is/was Mordred now sprouts three heads!”

“Stay back, my Liege! This monster doth naughtte feel any blade! No arm has any effect on this invincible creature!”

“Fear naughtte for me, Launcelot. Come to me, Mordred.”

“It”    “Mordred”    “Father”

“Yes, I am your Father, Mordred.”

“Mordred”    “Kill”    “Father”

“Fly away, my King! The monster acknowledges no strike!”

“Come to me, Mordred.”

“Kill”     “Kill”     “Kill”

“I’m sorry, son, this hurts me, more than it hurts you.”

~plunge!~

“Eee”    “AYE”   “rRoark!”

“No mortal blade may harm the Great Mordred!”

“Eee”    “AYE”   “rRoark!”

“No mortal blade will fell the ogre, baughtte ‘Excalibur’ is no mortal blade. Mine plunge of sword through the monster boy’s heart has dropped the foul fellow to his scaly knees. I shall now hasten him hither with this double handed royal farewell.”

~slice!~
plop. plop. plop.

“
Hsssk!
What hast thou done?! My Mordred!? My perfect plans are ruined!”

“Look, it’s Mistress Morgana, up on the battlements!”

“Oui, and Mademoiselle Stephanie is up there, too!”

“Eh hem, I sayeth, Mistress Morgaga, thy art invited to go soaketh thy head in the moat, m’lady. Forsooth, alloweth me to grant thee a boost off the ramparts.”

“E

   e

    e

     e

      k

       !”

  ~splash!~

“Arthur, my King, Arthur, my husband, Arthur, my funny old bear, art thou sure this is the best course?”

“Ha! Of course I’m sure, my Queen Guenevere, I’m King! That’s one of the first things to learn of to be king, you know, to be sure of things!”

“Your Majesty. I am choked with the emotion, oui?”

“Yes, old chum, so too am I, my friend.”

“Oh, my King, I can’t bear to see you go!”

“Tut, tut, Ichabod, it is because of you, I have the strength to make this journey. I have learned much of late. I now realize how very deeply I care for the land and my subjects. Take lovely Stephanie and live happily throughout the rest of thy days, from here and ever after.”

~sniff~
“Yessir, your Highness, sir.”
~sniff~

“Launcelot, I know now that Guenevere’s love for you, supersedes my own. Guenevere’s love for you is the love of a man, and with me, it is for the love of England. Guenevere’s love for me is that of a love for her country because I
am
her country. The land and I are bound together. I must be here for Britain always. My journey carries me to Avalon, that I may be here to serve my country always.”

“Never have I witnessed such nobility and compassion! Arthur, you are both the greatest of men, and the greatest of Kings. I weep with joy to be thy friend.”

“Launcelot, take care of Guenevere. Protect her, love her, make her happy.”

“Oui, your Majesty!”

“Y’all are subjects to make a King proud.”

“Thank you, Sire!”

“God save Great Britain!”

“God save Great Britain!”

“I hear a soft music, Miss Stephanie. Gentle yet haunting refrains, as that of harps and/or angelic ladies choirs drift as mists over the waters surface.”

“Your Queen Guenevere, hears the music as well, Ichabod.”

“Oui, we all do.”

“I sayeth, our King doth do depart. On a small boat, accompanied by three Holy women in waiting, our sovereign King sails into the sacred mists of legend.”

“Oui, Stephanie. Arthur now draws his mighty sword. With love and tenderness, our Blessed King kisses the Sacred relic. Arthur grasps the blade, rears back and throws Excalibur high into the air, returning the immortal blade from whence it came, to await our country’s next need.”

“My Launcelot, a slim arm, clad in shimmering silver mail, gracefully rises from the water’s surface. T’is the Lady of the Lake and she reaches for Excalibur that she might keep the sacred blade safe, until Britain’s need should call on it again.”

“I sayeth, what a thrilling sight, seeing Excalibur fly through the morning air, the magic blade catching the morning sun in a promise of many bright tomorrows. End over end, the sword turns as the wheel of a cart. It achieves apogee and falls to the waiting hand from the water.”

“No, Mademoiselle, the Holy sword has paused in its fall! It hangs suspended, quivering with indecision. Now it shoots away to the shore.”

“Nyenh, henh, henh! The sword of power is mine at last!”

“Mr. Merlin, sir! Shame on you! That sword belongs to posterity, and that Magno-beam-O-rator you used to steal it belongs to me!”

“Sacre Bleu, you terrible fiend! I shall striketh thee down!”

“Nyenh, henh, henh! Oh no you won’t, shiny britches! I shall use this horrible invention of Icky-face to cast thee and thy Holier than thou armoured self far away!”

“AAAAAAA
A
A
AAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!............

“Shame on you, Mr. Merlin, sir! I’m gonna fix your little red wagon!”

“Bah, do naughtte soil my prestigious self with your common hands! Let go of my sword!”

“No, it ain’t yours! Give it back! It belongs to that there Lady in the Lake!”

“‘Of’ the Lake.”

“Yessir. Unh! Unh!”

“It is mine! Unh! Unh!”

“Augh!”

~splash!~

“Ichabod and Merlin hath fallen into the lake! They have sunk beneath the surface!”

“Blub, blub, blet blow blIchablubble!”

  “Blub, blub, blow blay! Blou blet blow, Blerblin!”

    “Blebber!”

         “blub.”

              “blub.”

         
                        
“blub.”

“blub.”                                  

“blub.”           

“blub.”

                         “blub.”

               “blub.”

    “blub.”    

          “blub.”                        

“blub.”                               

“blub.”                                              

“blub.”                                  

“blub.”           

  “blub.”

                        “blub.”

               “blub.”

    “blub.”    

          “blub.”                        

“blub.”                               

“blub.”                                               

“blub.”                                  

“blub.”           

    “blub.”

                       “blub.”

               “blub.”

    “blub.”    

          “blub.”                        

“blub.”                               

“blub.”                                                   

                   “blub.”

          “blub.”

   “blub.”

~splash!~

“Ickety-bod, wake up, son, Ah say, Ah say, wakes up right now, suh!”

“President Twain, t’is thee! Verily and forsooth, wherefore art I?”

“You are in big trouble if you don’t stop talking nonsense, Icky, Persephone is about to be ette!”

“Prithee, Persephone? Oh my Goodness, it doth be the Moss-cow Circus!”

“Of course, son, why do you think I just threw a bucket of clown water in your face, boy?

“Merry! It seemeth Knucklaus and Spaundexandra are in the process of being consumed by giant, striped cats!”

“Yea, boy, and Persephone is desperately trying to discourage this other over-grown feline that encroaches so menacingly. Reared up on its hind legs and standing at full height, that Siberian Tiger towers twelve feet tall over Persephone who bravely opens and closes her parasol at the monster with a threatening manner and fierce ‘shoo-shooing’ in a determined effort to drive the beast away.”

“It’s the same all over this huge arena! Wild animals are holding humans in mortal predicaments!”

“Eh hem, I say, are you well rested after your little nap, Mr Temperance? If so, I think we should like to enjoy a spot of assistance on your part, yes?”

“Little nap? But Miss Plumtartt, I’ve been gone for a long time!”

“Ickety, you just suffered a bump on the head, son. You’ve only been unconscious for a few moments.”

“Verily, I have had many odd adventures, Sire! Oops, I mean, Mr. President.”

“Tell us of your dream later, boy.”

“T’was no dream, good sir, t’was real!”

“Roof!”

“Bolt! Oh Bolt, I hath missed thee, lo these many weeks, faithful boy! What tribulations doth vex our companions, so in mine absence?”

“Roof!”

“The circus animals are upset?”

“Roof!”

“They don’t like being held in captivity?”

“Roof!”

“They are seizing this opportunity to hold the Royal family hostage until these circus animals are freed and these noble creatures can live in the wild as nature intended?”

“Roof!”

“Thou wants me to communicate on behalf of the creatures?”

“Roof!”

“Thee would havest me to tell Knucklaus that as Tsar, he is not only leader of his people, but of the land and the animals, too?”

“Roof!”

“That his is a place of noble responsibility and he has an obligation to treat these creatures with dignity and compassion?”

“Roof!”

“And the same goes for President Clemens if he knows what is good for him?”

“Roof!”

“What did that dog just ‘roof’, Ickedy?”

“That wasn’t what Bolt was thinking, your Highness Mr. President Twain, sir, that was Bolt passing on the intentions of these fierce beasts.”

“Roof!”

“See?”

“Ah, let’s have all that again, Ickedy, the Tsar’s head was fully engulfed in this giant tiger’s drool dripping jaw and he could not hea-ah your demands.”

“You pass it on for me please, sir, I need to see Miss Plumtartt right away!”

“Are you well, Mr. Temperance?”

“Oh, Miss Stephanie, I’ve missed you!”

“Eh hem, is this some new moniker you have bequeathed me, Mr. Temperance?”

“Hunh? Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Plumtartt, I’ve been gone so long, I just got used to calling you Miss Stephanie.”

“I say, you have only been asleep a few moments, Mr. Temperance.”

“Oh, no Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am! I have been away for over a thousand years! I met wonderful people and had outrageous adventures! I was with King Arthur! He made me a Knight of the Round Table!”

“Yes, of course he did, Mr. Temperance. I’m sure you had a very pleasant dream.”

“But it weren’t no dream Ma’am, it was real! Well, I think it was. It seemed so real! Gee, Now it is sort of slipping away from me. Maybe it was just a dream.”

“I say, yes, of course it was, my poor little Mr. Temperance. This imagined tale must have been instigated by that nasty bump to your skull. Oh Knucklaus, Mark, Spaundexandra, please listen, Mr. Temperance wishes to tell y’all of his dream.”

The End.