Elleena clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Not only do you not have the necessaries, you never made the beast with two backs with that girl.”
“Made what now?”
“You never gave her a good rodgering,” I said, thrusting my fist into the air for emphasis.
“Never did what?”
“You never did with Aubrey what we did that night in the city of the Amazons.”
“Oh, no. I never did.” Elleena shrugged her shoulders. “And it hasn’t been easy either. That girl is after me every night. She’s really randy.”
“Randy who?”
“She wants sex… every night… sex with my thing… which I don’t have.”
“You have no idea what it’s called, do you?” I asked.
“Every night she begs me to make love to her,” continued Elleena, looking a little green around the gills. “I always tell her I will start by giving her a foot rub. Fortunately, she falls asleep fairly quickly.”
“So just how did you get in this predicament?” I asked.
Hysteria was clearly just as interested, as she perked up her ears.
“Well I was working in the area about eight months ago. I was leading a band of mercenaries. We had been hired to escort a nobleman from Auksavl through Brest. He was on his way to Theen, though we only had to see him safely to the border, which we did. Anyway, we stopped and spent the night in Shoopshire. The boys and I had quite a party in the taproom of the inn. The liquor was flowing pretty freely and there were several young woman there hoping to pick up a coin or two. I had quite a hangover the next day, but left without giving the night much thought.”
“That doesn’t explain anything,” I pointed out.
“I’m getting to it. I passed through town three months later and was practically tackled by Aubrey. You see, she was one of the girls at the party that night. She had been flirting with me and apparently she got drunk and ended up in the bed of one of the men. She couldn’t remember anything the next morning, but she thought that I had spent the night with her. I don’t know which of the boys it was, or for that matter whether it was just one or more than one, but I swear it wasn’t me.”
“Well, obviously! Why didn’t you tell her?”
“How could I tell her that I wasn’t the father of her child without exposing my secret?” asked Elleena. “The world knows Ellwood Cyrene as a heroic and masculine adventurer. I didn’t want to just throw away my reputation. Besides, a boy… a child, needs a father. I never got to know mine, dying as he did before I was born, and I don’t want to see that happen to anyone else.”
“And you’re going to give up being Queen?”
“No, of course not. I’ve been dividing my time up between being Elleena and being Ellwood anyway. It’s just that now Ellwood will be a father and husband, rather than a roaming mercenary.”
“You think you can be a good father?”
“I think I can. At first I was petrified, but now I’m actually looking forward to it. I can’t wait to give him his first little toy sword.” She smiled wistfully, which is to say full of wist.
“And you think you can be a good husband?”
“I’m generous and kind, and I don’t beat my wife. I have a good job as a road ranger. I range over 67 miles and get paid a shilling per mile.”
“But how are you going to keep her from finding out your secret?”
“That’s getting to be more and more difficult,” she said, taking a breath and letting out a little shiver. “When I rub her feet, Aubrey used to fall asleep when I reached her ankles. Now I’m getting all the way past her knees before she dozes off.”
“Soon you will find yourself at Mount Pleasant,” said I.
“What?”
“The South Pole.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Eaglethorpe,” she said. “But if I don’t figure out what to do, soon I’m going to be face to face with her hoo-hoo.”
Chapter Five: Wherein we make the journey to East Knucklewick.
We arrived in West Knucklewick, just as I predicted, a little before tea time. West Knucklewick was a little larger than Shoopshire, and possessed not only an inn, but a little pub called The Dreaming Dumpling. An establishment with such a name was simply too good to pass up and so we stopped for a meal. As I tied Hysteria to the hitching post, I looked at Elleena’s leather jerkin and wool pants.
“We may encounter of werewolf this very night,” I said. “Do you have armor?”
“Right here,” she said, indicating a large bag hanging from her saddle horn. Then pointing toward a similar bag hanging from my saddle horn, she asked, “What’s in there?”
“Gold sovereigns.”
“You’re kidding.”
I loosened the drawstring of the bag and pulled out a button-sized gold coin, tossing it to her. She caught it in the air and looked down at the likeness of herself pressed into the shiny precious metal.
“How many do you have there?”
“I don’t know—fifty or sixty pounds—four stone.”
“Why?”
“Gold is heavy,” I replied.
“Why are you carrying it with you?”
“I’m trying to spend it, but it’s really hard.”
“I should think so,” she said. “With a talent of gold you could hire an army of say 10,000 men for a year.”
“But I wonder,” said I. “Could you with an army of gold hire 10,000 talented men for a year?”
“You’re an idiot, Eaglethorpe,” she said, walking into The Dreaming Dumpling.
We took seats at a table in the corner. Elleena as usual, sat facing the door. A serving wench almost immediately plopped down a large crockery bowl filled with chicken and dumplings in front of each of us. She was a medium plump little thing, not quite so pretty as Aubrey, but cute nonetheless. I turned back to find Elleena glaring at me.
“What?”
“Why do you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Leer at all the women.”
“Because I am a man and that is what men do,” said I. “You know, I wonder that you fool anyone into thinking you are one. You seem to know so little about men.”
“I fooled you.”
“Oh no, you didn’t,” I replied. “I knew all along that you were no man. If you were a man, you would have given that wench a good and proper look.”
“No I wouldn’t,” Elleena replied. “I’m happily married.”
“Do you perhaps refer to your happy marriage as Ellwood Cyrene to a woman or were you perhaps referencing your marriage as Queen Elleena to a man?”
Elleena had no answer, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips in a very attractive way.
“You should know by now that you cannot match wits with Eaglethorpe Buxton.”
She didn’t reply, only muttered to herself as she ate her dumplings.
Before we set off on the road again, Elleena climbed into her armor. It was not the shining armor, complete with anatomically correct torso and purple cape that she wore as Queen Elleena. It was though a serviceable suit of articulated steel plate armor the cost of which might be earned by the typical peasant in two or three lifetimes. It was not nearly so beautiful as mine.
The sun went down well before we made East Knucklewick, which was ten miles from its sister town, causing me to wonder that West Knucklewick was not named East Shoopshire instead. It was after all, two miles closer to Shoopshire than East Knucklewick. It was quite dark, as the moon had not risen yet, when we spotted the lights of town. We rode to the inn, picking our way carefully along the road.
The town was extremely quiet. I could hear not a single person talking from inside their homes. Neither could I hear the barking of dogs that almost always accompany the dwelling places of mankind. Though light still escaped, all the windows in the little town were shuttered. And even the door of the inn, which in many places is left completely open, was barred. The chill wind whipped around our an
kles, once we had dismounted the horses.
“What do you suppose,” I asked. “Should we set off now and find the werewolf?”
“You are the expert,” Elleena replied.
“All right. Let us procure lodging for the next three days, see to the horses, and then we can go out and hunt the creature.”
“That is remarkably good thinking,” she replied.
Though we had to pound on the door for more than a few minutes and call out several times, we were eventually granted access to the inn, where we paid the twitchy innkeeper for our rooms and stowed our gear. The inn had its own stable, so we took the horses there. Hysteria was more than happy to have her barding off, and I gave her a good brushing, some fresh water, and some hay. She would have much rather had oats of course, but she was getting a little thick around the middle.
“Now I want no repeat of the trouble last month,” I told her. “You are to stay away from cards and tobacco.”
Then we were off, making our way into the darkness of the forest that surrounded East Knucklewick, and indeed most of the country of Brest. Late into the night the full moon rose, illuminating our paths through the trees but doing little to reveal the secrets of the lovely but mysterious land.
Chapter Six: Wherein we hunt a werewolf and order breakfast.
We circled the town several times during the night, making our way cautiously through the shadows thrown upon the ground by the massive trees. We heard the cry of a wolf on two occasions, but they were far away. At last, the sky began to lighten and morning was hard upon us. Realizing that this would not be our night, we trudged through a patch of brittle brown weeds and made our way back toward town. I managed with no problem, but Elleena complained of stickers.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think you need a leather liner for your armor.”
“No, not about that.”
“I think that I would like a nice breakfast and a warm bed,” I said.
“I can’t argue with that, but what do you think about the werewolf?”
“I don’t know. It was my understanding that the town was being terrorized, but perhaps the wolf has moved on. If the wolf cries we heard were the werecreature, then maybe it has taken up a new abode, which is to say a new living place.”
Elleena just grunted.
By the time we reached the front door of the inn, the sky was bright with predawn light, and the villagers were already up and about their morning chores. Milkmaids were carrying their pails. Housewives were dumping their chamber pots. Stable boys were sweeping out the horse stalls. And a lone drunk was staggering home from the pub.
I was able to get a good look at the town for the first time, as it had been dark when we arrived. East Knucklewick was as much larger in comparison to West Knucklwick, as West Knucklewick was in comparison to Shoopshire. It was big enough to have two inns and a couple of pubs, as well as a general store, an outfitter’s shop, a smithy, a haberdashery, and a milliner. The inn was not all that different from the one in which Aubrey worked, now that they had unshuttered the door and windows for the daylight hours. For that matter, had I not taken time to know Aubrey, I might have believed that the serving wench here was her. She had short licorice hair and cherry lips, but was only a little pregnant.
Elleena and I sat down at a table near the fireplace. I was tired, but my friend looked as though she were about to drop. I tossed the wench a sovereign and called for a full Aerithrainean breakfast. As anyone who has been to Aerithraine knows, the traditional breakfast of my home country is three eggs, over hard; bacon, sausages; black pudding, white pudding, fried potatoes, beans, flapjacks—what they call hotcakes in Brest, and scones—which they call biscuits in Brest. It is worth noting that there are more fat people per capita in Aerithraine than anywhere else in the world.
The girl returned loaded down with our breakfast, smiling as she bent low to place the plates on the table and give us a view down her blouse, the top two buttons of which were unbuttoned.
“You look very like the father of my child,” said the wench.
Elleena looked up, startled.
“You certainly do get around,” I told her.
“Not him,” said the wench. “You.”
Elleena slammed her fist on the table, upsetting one of the many plates and causing two sausage links to roll off onto the floor, and then pointed her finger accusingly at me.
“I haven’t been in Brest for nigh on a year,” said I.
“Oh, I did not say that you were the father,” the girl continued. “Only that you looked much like him.”
“You see?” I told Elleena. Then I turned back to the girl. “So who was this apparently very handsome fellow?”
“He is the famous story-teller Eaglethorn Beltbuckle.”
Elleena let loose with guffaw loud enough to startle everyone in the room. Then suddenly she slipped from her chair, falling to the floor and smacking her chin on the table as she went. Collapsing in a pile near my feet, she bled from her face like a very handsome stuck pig.
“What the hell?” I wondered, looking down at her.
“Have you fellows been wandering around on the east side of town?” asked the serving wench.
“Yes, as well as the west, north, and south.”
“Well, the east side is covered in batty bushes.”
“I am afraid that though I count myself one of the world’s foremost botanists,” quoth I, “I have never heard of batty bushes.”
“The true name is Lunatic Arborvitae, though I have heard them called psychopathic plants and schizophrenic shrubs.”
“Oh, that does explain it,” said I. “I did know them by one of those other names.”
I scooped up Elleena and threw her unconscious form over my shoulder.
“Are you sure the fellow who fathered your child did not say he was Eaglethorpe Buxton, with a thorpe instead of a thorn and a buxton instead of a belt buckle?”
“Yes, that was it!” she cried.
“Then I am sorry to say that he lied to you, for I am Eaglethorpe Buxton, adventurer and story-teller and the object of many imitators.”
The wench’s face fell, which is to say she suddenly looked very unhappy.
“Men are pigs,” she muttered and stomped away.
“I shall be back for my breakfast,” I called after her.
I carried Elleena out of the taproom, upstairs, and to her assigned room, leaving a trail of blood drops all the way. Tossing her on the bed, I reached into my pocket for the gauze I always carry to dress wounds. Using water from the nightstand pitcher, I washed the blood from that perfect chin and applied the bandage. Elleena lazily opened her eyes.
“Eaglethorpe,” she slurred. “How did you get me into your bed again?”
“It is your bed,” I replied. “And do not fear. I am only bandaging you. You really will look like a man now, as I know of no man who doesn’t have a scar across the bottom of his chin, either from falling off a horse or from playing kickball.”
She closed her eyes and snored twice, but then opened her eyes again. “I love you, Eaglethorpe.”
“You are not in your right mind.”
“No, it’s true… truly true…I love you with a deep burning… it’s like a urinary tract infection.”
“Go to sleep,” I ordered, and leaving her to sleep off the effects of the batty bushes, I went back downstairs to eat the rest of my breakfast.
Chapter Seven: Wherein I investigate and I eat a nostalgic meat pie.
I felt more than satisfied, and not a little sleepy, after finishing my breakfast, but I decided to do some investigating before climbing into my bed. Therefore I sought out the twitchy innkeeper whom we had met the night before. He was a thin fellow, about five foot eleven, with a bald head and a quite a beak on him.
“I understand you have a werewolf problem,” said I.
He looked nervously to the left and the right.
“You don’t know the half of it. Our town ha
s been under the curse of the beast for two years. Once a month, it ranges through our lands, terrorizing anyone who comes across its path. And once a month, it selects one of our young maidens and carries her off, never to be seen again.”
“That sounds like no ordinary werewolf,” said I. “Killing and mangling is what you usually hear about with them, but you seldom hear about them carrying off of women. So you don’t think it has moved on?”
“No. Our town is doomed,” he said, shaking his head dejectedly.
“Fear not citizen,” said I, taking a heroic pose. “For I am Lord Dewberry, renowned across Aerithraine as a friend to those who are in need of a friend, a protector to those who are in need of a protector, and a well-known slayer of werewolves. And I am also known as Eaglethorpe Buxton, the great adventurer and story-teller.”
“If you are Eaglethorne Turnbuckle,” he said. “You owe me for three weeks food and lodging.”
“That’s Eaglethorpe with a p instead of an n and Buxton which is completely different and how do I owe you money?”
“Well, we had Eaglethorpe Buckleberry staying with us two months ago and he ran up a quite a bill.”
“How much is the bill?”
“Thirty quid.”
Though I was sure that he was padding the amount and technically speaking it wasn’t my bill to worry about anyway, I counted out twenty gold sovereigns and handed them to him. It was I am sure, perhaps not the most money he had ever seen at one time, but certainly the most gold.
“I am paying this bill even though I am not responsible,” said I. “What is more, I want to swear out a warrant against this imposter.”
“How can we be sure that it is not you who is the imposter,” said the innkeeper. “I have never heard that Englewood Buxington possessed notable wealth.”
“I can assure you that I am the genuine article. And it is Eaglethorpe Buxton.”
“But if you were an imposter, would you not insist that you were not an imposter?”
“You may be assured that I would.”
“Then how can we trust that you are the real Eaglethorpe Boxo’nuts?”
Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton Page 26
