“Just look at me!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms out and giving him a good look. “Now who is the law in these parts?”
“We have a road ranger. His name is Ellwood Cyrene.”
“I know the fellow,” said I. “I shall see him later. In the meantime, I need someone to draw me a map of the town and the surrounding area.”
“You are in luck,” he reported. “The outfitter’s shop sells maps of the area already made up.”
“Excellent.”
I crossed the road to the outfitter’s shop and soon returned to the taproom, map in hand. I also had purchased a lantern, some oil, a hammer, a broom, some werewolf repellent, two penny candies, a pearl-handled brush, and a gallon of saddle salve. I wasn’t quite sure what saddle salve was, but I was sure that it was applied either to the saddle or one’s behind after sitting long in the saddle. In any case, the fellow behind the store counter assured me that I needed at least a gallon.
Back in the taproom, I made use of the local patrons’ knowledge as well as that of the pregnant serving wench and another serving wench who was less pregnant, which is to say not with child. When I was done, I had labeled all thirty nine buildings in town—sixty eight, if one included outhouses, and all sixteen outlying farms—sixty one buildings including outhouses, storage sheds, and barns. I felt as though I had done a full-day’s work.
“It’s nigh on dinner time,” said the serving wench—the not pregnant one. “Can I get you something to eat?”
“Dinner time already?” I wondered.
“Oh. It’s what you in Aerithraine call lunch. Here in Brest, it’s dinner.”
“Oh yes,” said I. “I had forgotten that you call your dinner, supper; and your lunch, dinner; and your tea, snack time.”
“We still call our tea time, tea,” she said. “Snack time is mostly in Lyrria.”
She smiled down at me and I gave her a close look for the first time. She was slightly less medium-plump than the other girl—not surprising as she wasn’t with child. Still she had plenty of physical charms threatening to escape her blouse, the top three buttons of which were unbuttoned. I decided that this fashion statement was fifty percent more to my liking than that utilized by other serving wenches. She had caramel hair and cherry lips, and really big teeth—almost scary big.
“Well, what is on the menu today?”
“I’m afraid we only have meat pie.”
“Only meat pie,” I gasped. “Why, there have been times when I would have killed for a meat pie, and three times in particular when I was forced to do just that. One of those times had to do with a slow waitress.”
“Right away, Your Lordship,” she said, hurrying to the kitchen and returning with a freshly-baked meat pie.”
“What is your name, girl?” I asked, poking holes in the pie with my fork for the steam to escape. “And what is the name of your almost ripe compatriot?”
“My what now?”
“The other girl—the one with a bun in the oven”
“My sister.”
“Oh how nice. What is her name?”
“Her name is Imminent.”
“And what is your name, my dear?” I asked.
“My name is Eventually.”
“Your mother must have been very wise.”
“She was a travelling fortune-teller.”
As Eventually hurried off to see to other patrons, I ate my meat pie. It was a spicy and delicious pie that made me feel quite nostalgic. I remembered eating a similar meat pie on horseback with a young elven princess, and wondered what she was doing these days. When I finished, I carried my new purchases, and most especially my new map, up to my room and climbed into bed for some well-deserved rest.
Chapter Eight: Wherein we hunt a werewolf again and order a far less fattening breakfast.
I woke to find Elleena holding me by the shoulders and vigorously shaking.
“What?” I demanded.
“It is time to get up and hunt for the werewolf,” she said. “Sunset came and went an hour ago.”
“All right. Give me a minute to get up and get dressed.”
I climbed up and began slipping into my clothing as Elleena sat at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t watch me!” said I.
“I’ve seen you naked before,” she replied. “On more than one occasion, I might add.” But she turned away and faced the other side of the room.
“Look what I have,” I said once I was dressed.
“Do you want me to look at you or not?”
“No, look here.” I showed her my map of the town and surrounding area. Then I told her what I had learned of the accursed werewolf—about how he terrorized the town and carried away a different maiden each month.
“This is no ordinary werewolf,” said she.
“Not only that.” I raised my finger in a pose of righteous indignation. “But there is an Eaglethorpe Buxton imposter here-abouts!”
“He’s the one who knocked up that poor wench?”
“Oh, you remember that do you?” I remarked. “He also ran up a bill of thirty pounds Aerithrainean. I demand that you, as road ranger, make out a warrant for his arrest.”
“Well, I for one certainly don’t want there to be more than one Eaglethorpe Buxton running around,” said she. “I will either arrest him or kill him when I see him. Now come along, I have gathered everything we’ll need.”
We donned our armor, and then left the inn in search of our lycanthropic quarry, which is to say the werewolf. Like the previous night, it was dreadfully dark. It was scarcely possible to see one’s on hand in front of one’s face, and I couldn’t see mine either. I bumped into two different trees. Finally, I saw Elleena sparking her flint and steel. Moments later, she held a lantern with a brightly burning wick.
“Won’t the werewolf see us?” I wondered.
“I’ll keep it hooded,” she replied. “We have to be able to see where we’re going and we have to be able to look at the map. Besides, I don’t want to wander through the Lunatic Arborvitae again.”
“Yes, those bushes made you batty.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be a full moon?” she asked.
“It will rise soon. Remember it came up quite late last night too.
She grunted in acknowledgement. “Let’s look at that map.”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” said I, as I unfolded the map. “You and I both noticed that this was an unusual werewolf in that it is taking away girls. Perhaps we should concentrate on men who live alone—widowers or bachelors.”
“That is an excellent idea. It is so excellent, I already thought of it.” She pointed to house after house, both within the town and at the outlying farms. “Widowers live here and here and here, but the last one has several children living with him. I suppose if he was a werewolf he would have eaten them already. Bachelors live here and here and here and here and here and here.”
“Wait a minute,” said I. “You pointed at the same farmhouse twice.”
“That’s because two bachelors live there.”
“If two bachelors live there,” I told her. “They are not really bachelors.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“They are a couple. They are living together and sharing their lives.”
“All meat and no potatoes?” she asked.
“Let us check out the other homes,” I said, shaking my head sadly. A parochial education is just not what it used to be, apparently.
We checked the outlying farms first. It seemed to me, and Elleena agreed, that someone cursed with lycanthropy might well seek to be as far from other people as possible, if for no other reason than to throw suspicion off himself. As we approached a well-maintained farm, we hooded our lantern and snuck as close to the shuttered windows as possible to hear what was happening inside. This fellow was a bachelor, but he had a guest. A young woman was laughing and having a good time with the man who lived in the farmhouse. This might not seem all that odd, unless you remembe
r that the entire rest of the town was dark, shuttered, and very quiet. Edging up as close as possible, I peered in a crack in the wall and saw, in the warm glow of a lantern, the serving wench named Eventually.
“Well this is obviously a waste of time,” whispered Elleena. “Let us make for the next house on the map.”
“Wait a few minutes,” said I. “Or twenty. It looks as though they are preparing to put on quite a show.”
I felt a sharp blow to the back of my head.
“Men are pigs,” Elleena said.
“You know that you are the second woman to tell me that in the last twenty four hours,” said I. “I think that women are becoming harder to please.”
“Come along. We have to check the next house.”
And so we did. We found the next bachelor behaving just as innocently, at least as in regards to being a werewolf. In other regards, we might say that he was behaving even more innocently, as he did not have a laughing serving wench to entertain him. I found it far less interesting to peak into the crack in his walls however.
As we were leaving his farm, the bright full moon came up over the horizon. We made our way from house to house and listened for that mournful and dreadful and terrible cry that is the wail of the werewolf, but no such sound could be heard—just the distant call of the Screech Owl.
And so the night went, as we searched every single residence that Elleena had indicated on the map. Each home we visited seem just as unlikely to host a werewolf as the last, and every home we visited seemed just as unlikely to host a werewolf as the last, which is to say the same thing, because everyone knows that each and every are interchangeable in these types of sentences, so people who say “each and every” should be taken out and beaten.
“What are you thinking about, Eaglethorpe?”
“Grammar.”
“Of course you are. Let’s go back to the inn. It seems our second night of werewolf hunting was no more successful than the first, and we have only one more night.”
Back at the inn, we had a traditional Brest breakfast, which is to say scrambled eggs on porridge. Elleena then went upstairs and went to bed, but I wasn’t sleepy, having only been up seven or eight hours. I ordered some mulled wine and relaxed by the fire, listening to the locals talk of the recent harvest and of putting up food for the winter, which is to say that they were talking of putting up food for the winter, not that I was doing it. It was a situation designed to lull one into a sleepiness and it slowly succeeded. I was just reaching the point where I thought I would get up and go upstairs to find my bed, when I heard a voice right beside my ear.
“Can this be none other than the great Englethorpe Boxcar before me?”
I turned to see a slight form in a green traveling cloak bending over me. From beneath the hood, long flowing golden locks fell, and I could just make out two sparkling eyes. Two slender arms raised up delicate hands up to remove the cloak, revealing long pointed ears pierced with many silver rings.
“Jholeira, Princess of the Elves,” I gasped.
Chapter Nine: Wherein I reacquaint myself with a Princess of the Elves.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Jholeira. “I thought you would be married to Prince Iidreiion and would be pumping out little elves—I mean, littler elves. Or forgoing that, you would at least be married to his twin brother Iidreiior. One of them I quite didn’t like the look of, though for the life of me, I can’t remember which it was.”
“You are as entertaining as I remember Master Buxton,” said she. “May I sit?”
“Of course.” I pulled a chair out for her and called for the serving girl Immanent to bring her a cup of wine.
“Iidreiion decided he didn’t want me,” she said. “It is more realistic to say that we didn’t want each other, because in truth, I never wanted him. And Iidreiior is a pompous ass.”
“Now that I know your mind,” said I, “I can admit that I did not care overmuch for either one of them. But that doesn’t explain why you are here. I was under the impression that your father, the king of the elves, was determined that you were to stay within the confines of his kingdom.”
“My father is a pompous ass too.”
What could I do, but nod in agreement.
“I came here to find you,” said Jholeira. “In fact, I’ve searched from here to Antriador. I saw your play, by the way.”
“And how did you find it.”
“I turned left at the theater entrance.”
“Toy with me not. You know my query.”
“I liked it more than I thought I would.”
“High praise,” said I. “So you have searched all over creation for me. What is it that you wanted of me?”
“It’s, well… I do not wish to speak of it until we get reacquainted.”
“That is perfectly acceptable,” said I. “It is always a welcome thing to meet with old friends and remember fonder days. We shall sit by the fire and I shall tell you the story of how we met, how I saved your life many times over, and then how I returned you to your people.”
“I believe I know that story already,” said she. “Perhaps you could tell me of what you have been doing in the years since.”
“I could tell you all about the great war between the Amazons and the monkey people and how I made peace amongst them by spending a passionate night with the queen of the Amazons and returning the lost monkey princess to her father.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the other way round?” she asked. “Perhaps you returned the Amazon and spent a night of passion with a monkey princess.”
“Oh, I would have remembered if it had been thus,” said I. “The monkey people are a passionate folk.”
She laughed. “Oh how I have missed you, Master Buxton.”
“It is good to see you again too. But I am afraid that I shall have to bid good day. I have been up all night and the mulled wine has finally done its duty. When I get up this evening, I shall buy you a fine supper and we shall talk some more.”
“I have been traveling and I am quite tired as well,” said Jholeira. “Unfortunately there are no more rooms available.”
“That seems odd,” I remarked. “I noted a number of vacancies when I checked in.”
She shrugged.
“You may stay in my room,” said I. “You may use the bed and I shall sleep on the floor.”
“Nonsense,” she replied. “I shall sleep on the floor. You must make use of your own bed.”
“All the country knows the name of Eaglethorpe Buxton and it knows that he is not one to make a woman sleep on the floor while he sleeps in a comfortable bed. Rather he is a friend to those who are in need of a friend and a protector to those who are in need of a protector and a provider of beds to those who are in need of a bed.”
“I seem to recall that you made me sleep on the floor the first night we spent together.”
“I don’t recall it that way,” said I.
“I insist, anyway.”
“Well, if you insist, I must acquiesce.”
We climbed the steps up to my room and inside, Jholeira helped me remove my armor, which reduced the time required by half. I took off my boots and wiggled my toes. Then I put my knife under my pillow. I climbed beneath the blankets and before she had even made herself a place on the floor, I was asleep. I woke a few minutes later though, when I felt her warm body snuggling up against mine.
“I have been looking for you because I have missed you so very much,” said she.
“That is very nice,” I replied sleepily.
“There are plenty of rooms available. I just wanted to be with you.”
“That was a facile lie, which is to say simple and easy to see through.”
“Go back to sleep, Eaglethorpe. We will talk more in the morning.”
Chapter Ten: In which far too much violence occurs in my own bed.
The monkey princess smiled seductively at me.
“Do you not find silky soft fur beautiful?” she asked. “Is not
my prehensile tail a wonder to behold? Do you not like the way I can caress you with my feet exactly as I do my hands?”
Then she slapped me. And suddenly I was awake. It took me only a moment to realize that I was in my bed in an inn in Brest and not in the exotic and beautiful palace of the monkey princess. It took me another moment though to realize that I was lying on one side of the bed and on the other side of the bed was the elven Princess Jholeira, and standing between us, fully dressed and sword in hand, was Elleena AKA Ellwood Cyrene.
“Eaglethorpe!” shouted Elleena. “Who the hell is this elven whore?”
“Why do you care?” I wondered. “Are you not a married man with a pregnant wife in Shoopshire?”
“Do not take that tone with me!” she shouted and whacked me on the top of my head with the flat of her sword.
“I remember you,” said Jholiera. “You are Ellwood Cyrene. You are Eaglethorpe’s friend and you are still a very pretty man.”
“She is neither pretty nor a man!” I cried, rubbing my head. “And she’s given me a cockscomb!”
“She’s not a man?” cried Jholeira.
“I’m not pretty?” cried Elleena.
“No, you are not pretty,” said I. “You might well be said to be a pretty man, if indeed you were a man, but you are not. And as a woman, you are not pretty, but beautiful.”
“That’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me in a good long while.”
“No!” shouted Jholeira. “It cannot be!”
“What?” asked the other two of us, which is to say Elleena and myself, and at exactly the same time.
“You are Queen Elleena of Aerithraine, with whom he once spent a fortnight.”
“That never really happened,” said Elleena.
“False woman!” I shouted. “You know it happened. I have in fact, been in your company for the better part of five years now.”
“But you started saying that before I even met you.”
“If a thing is true, then it is always true,” said I. “A circle doesn’t stop being round depending upon when you say it’s round.”
Many Adventures of Eaglethorpe Buxton Page 27
