The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) (2 page)

“Ooooh, my head. Dang, I’m dizzy. What happened? Oh yeah, the circus disaster!”

“Hunh? Where is everybody? Where I am? What am I doing out here? This sure is a pretty day, in a lovely green pasture, but I should be looking after Miss Plumtartt and Bolt.”

“Miss
Pluh
-
uhm
- tarrrrrrrrrtt! Where are you?”

“Bolt! Hey, Bolt! Here, boy! Come on, Bolt! I’ll try my double pinky whistle. That always brings him running.”

~phthweer-reeerp!~

“Gosh, I don’t see Mr. Bolt anywheres. It looks like I’m all by my lonesome. Nothing around but blue skies, gently rolling pastures, and groves of old oaks full of singing birds. Oh, I think I see someone moving through that stand of trees. I think it’s somebody on horseback.”

“Are my eyes deceiving me? It’s a clockwork man riding a mechanized horse! Ain’t they fancy! The horsie is gussied up with a colourful quilt, and the automaton riding it has a fancy  featherduster on its head!”

“Hey, Mr. Tin-man! Can you tell me how to get to Moscow from here?”

Oh, good, he is equipped with aural sensors and is able to ‘hear’ me. He is stopped and has turned. He raises his metal hand to his face and is clearing the visual interface. Oh my Gosh! No he ain’t, he is lifting his visor! That is a man in a metal suit! Oh my Goodness! That’s a real horsie wearing a metal suit, too! They are just pretending to be spring-driven clockwork devices! Oh, wait, now I get it! They are wearing suits of armour!

“Howdy mister, I reckon you must be with the circus. Can you tell me how to get back there?”

“Silence thy tongue, knave. Return at once to thine master before I distpatch thee hither.”

“Hunh? Are you having me on? Quit pulling my leg and give me a lift back to the circus, would you? I’m really worried about the way things were last night.”

“Merry, what is this peculiar manner of speech thou employest? Where didst thee get thy ridiculous clothes?”

“These clothes ain’t that bad! They’re good enough that I can be seen with Miss Plumtartt!”

“Lower thine eyes. Thee are naughtte of an equality! Assume the proper subservient obeisance forthwith!”

“Enough’s enough, mister; quit horsing around. Gimme a pull up so I can ride behind you back to the arena.”

“Thy familiarity knows no bounds! Your master will understand when I have slain thee.”

“My ‘master’? No sir, I’m a free, and honest citizen, buddy. Ya dern tootin!”

“Hah, thou dost exhibit every sign of complete madness. I shall relieve thee of thy difficult burden and have a bit of sport whilst thus engaged. Make thy peace in these final moments.”

“Hunh? Hey, where are you going? Ain’t you gonna give me a ride back to the circus with you? Oh, good, he’s coming back. Gee, he’s coming back in an all-fiery hurry to boot! Um, hey, mister, you’re carrying your spear in a different manner also. Instead of resting on the top of your stirrup and pointed up in the air, you got it tucked up under your arm and have the point aimed for my chest. Hey, my feet are starting to run away. Hey, maybe they’ve got the right idea! Hey mister, be careful! You’re gonna stick me with that shiny spear!”

“Stand still you running varlet. Do you not see how your efforts tire my poor horse? Stand stationary for half a second that I may slay thee!”

“Oh my Goodness, I better dodge out of the way before I am trampled to death by that mean horsie!”
~tumble!~
“I think that charger is battle trained. Them two is out to kill me! Out here in the field, my position is untenable!”

“Returnest thou coward and succor thy sweet reward at my spear’s tip. Climbing yon oak tree avails thee naughtte.”

“Eee-yow-wow-ow! That hurts! This ain’t funny no more. I was hoping I could just out climb that spear of yours but I reckon not! I surrender! Please don’t kill me!”

“Very well, thou art mine prisoner. Prithee, climb down and walk behind me.”

“Yessir, but if I’m your prisoner, shouldn’t I walk in front of you?”

“
You
, a person of no consequence, walk before one such as
I,
Sir Kegger of Oblivion on Avon? Surely the staggering amount of evidence proving thee are out of thy mind never ceases in its Heavenly ascent. Walk behind, as is befitting one of your station.”

“Yessir.”

I reckon I better just humour this poor feller until I find the nuthouse he fell out of. I reckon his asylum’s orderlies must be out in droves searching for this boobyhatch escapee.

Uh, oh, I see some children at play up ahead. Dang, these kids ain’t hardly got a shred a clothing between ‘em! Well, I’ll be hornswoggled, they ain’t giving a rip about this outrageous knight in shining armour and fancy dressed horse! Every one of them did a double take, accompanied by dropped jaw as they got their near nekkid peepers on me, though.

“Hey kids, are you all’s parents anywheres nearby? Gee, I reckon not, the way y’all ran in terror at the sound of my voice.”

“How come that haystack looks so ancient? Oh, I get it, it’s one of them there thatch roof cottages, ain’t it? Dang, there ain’t much cottage beneath all that thatch, is there?”

Oh, okay, if that passes for a house then here come some more buildings. They, however, are accompanied by ancient dung heaps.

“Hey, that dung heap just moved!”

Oh, I reckon what I thought was a pile of filth, was actually an example of the local populace. It is difficult to tell the men from the women, as they are both clothed in raggedy robes and makeshift sandals. The men’s hair is long, unkempt, and hanging about their owners’ shoulders, while the womenfolk are as deeply caked in muck as to disguise whether or not
they
are bearded.

“Howdy, y’all!”

“   .   .   . ”

“Um, how you all doing? Um, I reckon y’all are doing pretty wretched, judging by the years of misery imprinted on your morose faces, hunh?”

Everybody is bowing before this boy on the horse, but he ain’t paid none of ‘em the least moment’s consideration. They all just gape at me like I got three heads.

Ugh. Some of these folks are enjoying the dubious pleasure of iron collar jewelry. I thought I had seen the last of that sort of thing years ago, but I guess I was wrong. I didn’t know Russia was like this.

“I reckon this is where you all play during the day until they lock y’all up at night. It almost looks like a little town. There are a few stone buildings that look as if they were built out of the biggest rocks y’all could carry. You all were sure stingy with the doors and windows on these moss covered piles. They sure do brighten the place up in contrast to the jungle of thatch and twig shacks, huts and lean to’s scattered around. Of course, nobody thought much about streets, hunh? It’s just a twisty little jumble of criss crossing paths, alleys, and muddy ruts. These however give the nekkid children a place to carouse with their porcine and canine playmates.”

“I’m glad those kids and kidlets knew to get out of your way, Sir Kegger; you don’t seem to pay nobody no mind at all! If these pathetic peasant type looneys and their critters did not scramble out of the way, you would surely run them down without a second thought!”

“Is that our destination up ahead? That big building that all of these paths lead to? You know, that big place adorned with crenelated battlements and waving flags. Is that gaudy facade supposed to be reminiscent of an old-timey castle? What is that place over yonder?”

“Yon lies Camelot.”

“Camelot? Is that the name of this nuthouse sanitarium?”

“Looks like there are some orderlies manning the drawbridge. Two are crossing their halberds to block our path and another steps forward to challenge.”

“Oh, who doth approach the sacred gates of Camelot?”

“T’is I, Sir Kegger of Oblivion on Avon.”

“Where hast thou traveled, oh noble knight?”

“I have traveled the highways and the byways of this great land. I have done great battle with fearsome foe wherever I go. Truly, I have spread the glory of our great King across these lands.”

“What tribute do you bring?”

“I have this fearsome ogre that I have laid low and made prisoner that my good King may dispense with its life as may be his fancy, forsooth, prithee.”

“Hail and well met, Sir Kegger! Sound the bugles! The Court welcomes back one of her own!”

“Golly, you sure are popular around here, Sir Kegger! All these fancy orderlies in shining chain mail and brilliant white tunics emblazoned with a crimson lion are happy to see you! There must be a hundred of these boys turning out to hold their gilded halberds in honourary salute! Where do you all come up with those ornate plumes to top off your helmets?”

“Gosh, how long does this bugley fanfare go on? Is that a real portcullis up there? Gaw-ly!”

“This castle is no cheap facade; this place is the real thing! This banner bedecked inner courtyard is as colourful as a peacock’s tail! Everyone in here is decked out in the brightest coloured silks I could ever imagine!”

“Where is my page-boy?”

“Prithee, here I am, me Lord.”

“Come here, Spyke.”

“Are you kidding me? That swishy little thing is a male? But he is wearing green tights and poofy blue silk bloomers. His tunic needs to be a little longer to help protect his dignity, but how one can be dignified in a silk tunic of that colour fuschia silk is beyond me. Perhaps it’s the pink bonnet that is a step beyond my own limited comprehension skills. Is he skipping over to us, or is he prancing?”

“Mine page, I chargest thee with this prisoner. Deliver him unto the Court.”

“Prithee, it be done, my lord.”

“Howdy there buddy, do you work here? At the asylum I mean. Just point me to the head shrink if he passes by.”

“Merry but thou art struck with a strange language. How dost thou come to speake in such a low form?”

“I reckon you must be one of the kept wards. My name is Ichabod, did I hear the crazy man on the horse call you Spyke?”

“Prithee, for it be my name, forsooth.”

“What’s up with all the fancy costumes, Spyke? This place looks like it just stepped out of the Middle Ages.”

“Fair thee let, your words make no sense Ichabod.”

“The Middle Ages, like, the twelve hundreds or something.”

“No-sense are in your words and madness conjured by the deficit.”

“Then what year is this supposed to be?”

“It matters naughtte what ye want nor wish nor suppose, forsooth, simple Ichabod: it can only be 528.”

“Hunh?”

“Nineteenth of June, 528.”

“England?”

“No, we are on yon side of the moon.”

“Hunh?”

“Yes, yes, we are in England!”

“In the year 528?”

“Yes.”

“But that is over thirteen hundred years ago!”

“Again the ogre in the dull clothes is speaking madness. Be glad it was Sir Kegger that found you. You will probably go to prison or be executed.”

“Prison or execution! Why would anybody do that to me and why is that a good thing?”

“Good old Sir Kegger, he really does have a soft spot in his massive heart for lone birds in trouble.”

“I was all right until I ran into him! Why is it good that he take me prisoner and then lead me off to be executed?”

“Well, if you’re going to be killed, wouldn’t you want an expert to do it?”

“Well yeah, I guess so.”

“Prithee, of course thy would! Camelot boasts some of the best executioners in the land!”

“Eek! An executioner! That’s horrible!”

“Don’t be silly, Icky, you should always leave these things to the professional. Nice and quick. No dragging on for days in agonizing pain.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Most other knights would have just made a half-hearted attempt at your death. If you were merely mortally wounded, you wouldst suffer without need.”

“Gotcha.”

“But I think good Sir Kegger was just trying to save you from the church.”

“The church! Could I claim sanctuary?”

“Forsooth, thy comedies never ceaseth! Sanctuary! Hoo, hoo! No you silly goose, you know as well as everyone else how the church loves to torture its victims.”

“I thought
I
was the victim!”

“You are. Don’t act surprised when you are victimized.”

“Oh.”

“Besides, it could be a lot worse.”

“Worse than being tortured to death by the church?”

“Yeah, you could have been caught by a magician.”

“A magician? You mean a guy in a shiny suit pulling rabbits out of his opry hat? What’s so scary about them?”

“Our magicians may be of a higher calibre than you are normally associated with, Icks.”

“What did you say today’s date was again?”

“528, nineteenth of June.”