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

by Ichabod Temperance

  “Fear naughtte, my lieutenant wizard, I shall recompense thee. That reminds me, where is my executive wizard?”

  “Awaken thy senses, Ichabod; thou art on!”

  “Hunh? Oh, thanks, Spykey. Howdy and good afternoon, King Arthur.”

  “Well art thou met, Ichabod. Tell thy King of thine progress made upon thy professed inventiveness?”

  “Oh, yessir! We’ve gots all sorts of devices getting ready to be built! I’ve had to put a lot of work into the preparations first, though.”

  “Tell your King of these preparations.”

  “Yessir, well, I been around to your armourers, metallurgists, and miners to see what I could do to advance a few of their techniques. Your foundries didn’t amount to more than a field of little stacked brick ovens with bellow attachment. It ain’t easy getting iron to melt, but I got a few advancements in oven design in the works. What I have in mind uses a theory of bouncing the heat of a supplemental oven onto the cooking metal. In the long run, we’ll get us a pretty little blast oven going, but this will work in the mean time.”

  “More steel for me to play with! Jolly good, Ichabod!”

  “Thank you, Sire! Well, the need for raw material is going up so I have a few things brewing to help miners harvest their manna from beneath the Earth’s surface more efficiently and safely. I have instructed some of the boys in how they should track their subterranean quarry with logic and geology, instead of haphazard, hoping to get lucky.”

  “Merry, I thought luck was all there was to mining. What a surprise that you are able to turn your, what was it you called it?”

  “Science.”

  “Yes, ‘science’, to even these labours.”

  “I’ve got a some boys scrounging up a few items to concoct a batch of explosives to speed the mining capabilities.”

  “Prithee, what are these ‘explosives’, of which thou speakest?”

  “I reckon they’re kind of like Mr. Merlin’s little poofy smoke bombs he is fond of tossing, but more acute.”

  “Enough to crack rocks?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Be this magic?”

  “Science/magic, Sire.”

  “The arms and armour will pour as water from thy shops, Ichabod.”

  “Well, sir, I’m wanting to set some of the steel aside for foundry use. That is, I want to pour molten steel into molds to build precision instruments.”

  “But I like armour, Ichabod!”

  “Yessir, but uh, I have got the blacksmiths punching out some gears, cogs, and rods and such. The better bits of steel are being re-made into springs.”

  “Explain.”

  “Long, thin, flat pieces of steel that have been coiled ‘round and ‘round until lots of resisting tension is contained within.”

  “Ah, much like the way I like to ‘twang’ the end of my sword, in a manner that proclaims its veracity.”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess, anyway, I also redirected some of the armourers’ efforts into becoming boiler-makers.”

  “One can boil water over an open flame, Ichabod.”

  “That’s true, sire, but I want to boil water in a sealed environment. My intention is to harness the energy of the pressure built when steam is captured in a limited space.”

  “Oh, Ichabod, how much force could something as insubstantial as steam have?”

  “Quite a bit, actually.”

  “Really? How may this uncanny power source be utilized?”

  “Oh, gee, whiz, the sky’s the limit! If we were to build specialized roads to accommodate them, we could craft great big engines called locomotives what could pull half this castle along behind if it were dismantled and distributed along a caravan of connected carts.”

  “Preposterous, boy!”

  “Nossir, it’s true! A steam engine can propel a ship at sea!”

  “Oh, Ichabod.”

  “It’s true, King Arthur! It don’t need no sails, neither. It moves without wind.”

  “Oh we have boats that move without sail or wind. They are called galleys. They run on slave power.”

  “Ee-ew, yuck. Well, maybe these steam engines will be a step toward ending that cruel institution.”

  “Oh, Ichabod, you say the most amusing things. Do you have any other wonders on the horizon?”

  “Yessir! We have been gathering up all the copper we could find. I’ve got some real interesting ideas to float at you when I get the copper wire shop flowing good.”

  “Oh, my Liege! How it taxes your loyal and obedient servant and trusted magician Merlin to keep these many swarms of beastly dragons at bay, oh.”

  “That’s nice, Merlin. So, I look forward to these many wonders, young Ichabod. Hmmm, I must say, I do naughtte much care for addressing thee as Ichabod. Art thou sure you would naughtte care to be Knighted?”

  “I’m sorry, Sire, I just don’t reckon I’d feel right about it. I’m just a regular guy, you know?”

  “I’m naughtte so sure, Ichabod. As men go, you are quite the man.”

  “That’s funny, the fellers at all the workshops were saying the same thing.”

  “Ha! It’s settled then! Ichabod, here is a title that you cannot refuse. By Royal proclamation, I, Arthur Pendragon, King of the Britains, do hereby declaim, Ichabod, thou art the ‘Man’!”

  Chapter 5

  Spring’s Song

  “Behold, Ichabod hast brought yet another wondrous invention to our midst! It conveyeth food from table to mouth without soiling a person’s hands, nor person’s hands engrime one’s food! How dost thou designate yon miracle of engineering?”

  “I call it a ‘fork’, your majesty.”

  “Stupendous!”

  “You will note, your Highness, that when used in conjunction with a dagger, the same accomplishment can be attained with meats, as well.”

  “Astonishing, lad.”

  “Yessir. I fashioned a little personal ladle for each set so that the diner may enjoy his or her soup, without actually having to lift the bowl to one’s lips, or, bend over and tilt it at the table. I call this little beauty, the ‘spoon’.”

  “Ooooooo.”

  “Hey, Spyke, come here. Now then, I’ll ask Queen Guenevere, please take a whiff of this young man.”

  ~sniff~ “Forgiveness, please, oh, Ichabod, who art the man, prithee, I confess, I smelleth nothing at all.”

  “Precisely, Queen Guenevere! This boy has been washed with soap! This invention removes both dirt and stench from body and clothes!”

  “Ooooooo.”

  “I propose that everyone in this entire country be introduced to the idea of soap and bathing!”

  “Oui, methinks thou dost think in a progressive manner, oh, Ichabod, who art the man. Tell me this, when you say everyone, art thou including the peasant class?”

  “Yessir, Mr. Sir Launcelot, sir, you may not believe this, but the stink will wash off of a peasant, the same as anybody else.”

  “Huhhhhhh!”

  “It’s true, I wish I could get y’all to see that folks is folks, and no one is really any better than anybody else.”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”

  “Oh, Ichabod, thou art so funny! What delights do you bring us today?”

  “Thanks for asking, Queen Guenevere; things are humming along in all the workshops! I made some things just for y’all here in the castle!”

  “Whaughtte are these wonders, oh Ichabod who art the man?”

  “I thought a little something to brighten things up was in order. How do you like these lamps, King Arthur?”

  “Is it really considered a lamp? Forsooth, its illumination is so meager that it barely has any light at all. What’s this? Something is inside the large, transparent, liquid filled vessel. Prancing Paladins, an amorphous monster is in this fluid-filled tank! Verily, it stretcheth a shapeless pseudopod upward. Higher, higher, ugh! Disgusting! The creature his split in twain!”

  “Don’t be alarmed, y’all, that’s just the most interesting feature of my
‘molten torch’. You'd be surprised at how entertaining that little contraption can be.”

  “For the easily amused, perhaps. What else hast thou?”

  “I have this item that is a bit bigger than a large, trunk. I call it my J.U.K.U.L.A.R. Box.”

  “Jolly”

  “Universal”

  “Known &”

  “Unkown”

  “Lugubrious”

  “Anthem”

  “Recreator”

  “I used a bunch of that copper wire to build a dynamo for animating the contraption. My groom...”

  “I’m scared of horses.”

  “My squire?”

  “Sure.”

  “My squire, Spyke, will pedal the generator to motivate the device. The Spyke-made lightning is an element I refer to as ‘electricity’. This engages the complicated machineries within. A big spinning barrel is the primary component. This is encrusted with retractable spokes. These may be raised and lowered as necessary. Parallel to the central, spinning barrel is an array of flattened rods of varying widths. The variety in sizes provides a variance in tone, for when the spokes of the barrel are engaged, they do so with the intention of making deliberate, though passing contact with the flat rods. This produces a tinkling, metallic, mildly annoying musical note. The rate of the barrel’s turn, and the changing order of the spokes are set up to so that rhythms and melodies are reproduced. It can randomly select tunes of its own making, or, a pre-arranged program can be initiated.”

  -plinky-tink-bink-doing-

  -puh-gliong-boing-tinksy-dink-

  -bink-dink-pink-queenck-

  -poddy-woddy-bing-ding-

  “A minstrel in a box, eh? Verily, this device may be a literal life-saver. There’s many the time I have come close to hanging my minstrels.”

  “Aye.”

  “I have another little wonder I think you will enjoy. This a little clockwork device. When I say ‘clockwork’, I mean it is composed of many moving parts. These are tiny cogs and gears that are motivated by spring. A few turns on this little winding key is all that is necessary for her fuel. Fashioned into the shape of a pretty bird, she will sing along to any songs she recognizes that the JUKULAR Box plays. I present to King Arthur and his fabulous Court, Vanessa RedBird.”

  They gather about a table,

  circular not long,

  fighting and carousing

  and singing a song.

  All the Jacknapes

  down on Canterbury Street,

  Love to hear Vanessa

  Sing a song so sweet,

  Arthur’s Rounders

  tweet, tweet, tweet.

  Yea, Arthur’s Rounders,

  Tweet, deedly-tweet.

  Yeah, Arthur and his Knights will

  really sweep you off your feet!

  Tweetly-deedly

  Tweetly-deedly

  Tweetly-deedly-deedly-deet.

  “How’d you like that one, folks?”

  “Huzzah!”

  “Have Vanessa sing us another one, oh Ichabod, who art the man.”

  “Yessir, Mister King Arthur, sir!”

  Arthur rules all the

  lands, lands, lands.

  Arthur rules all the lands.

  ‘Cause when Britain is united,

  I feel happy, inside,

  Though state, church, and locals,

  tax the pigmentation,

  out of my hide,

  out of my hide,

  out of my hide, yeah!

  Oh you, are really something,

  Reigning throughout the land.

  We, are subjugated,

  under your hand,

  under your hand,

  under your hand!

  Oh, yeah, Arthur,

  King of the Britains,

  I think you have taken command.

  When I, feel that something,

  I know it’s Arthur’s hand!

  I know it’s Arthur’s

  Huh-

  yia-

  yia-

  yia-

  yia-

  yia-

  -yand.

  “Ha, ha! Jolly good! Didst thou hearest? The contraption included me in her little song!”

  “Yessir, I’m glad you liked it! I hope you all like this next one, too.”

  He pulled the sword,

  right out of the stone.

  he’s fought through

  trials and tribulations,

  defeating them all on his own.

  But it’s been no bed of posies,

  no river cruise.

  He’s risen to every challenge,

  placed before him,

  and I’ve never known him to lose!

  Harken! Harken! Harken!

  Haaaaaaaaaark!

  Arthur’s our Monarch, my friends.

  And he’ll go on Reigning, till the end.

  Arthur’s our Monarch,

  Arthur is our Monarch!

  No time for posers,

  Arthur is the King,

  of the British Isles.

  “Hooray! Hoodily-hoo! Hubbah!”

  “Y’all want to hear another?”

  “Prithee!”

  “Go on and take flight, Miss RedBird, you’re a hit!”

  Well, it’s one for the treasure,

  two for the trove.

  Three I’m under the table and on four we...

  ~smash!~

  “Tweek!”

  ~smash!~

  “Twock!”

  ~smash!~

  “Twerk!”

  ~smash!~ “Silence!” ~smash!~ “You despicable bird!” ~smash!~ “This trusty battle mace will end your infernal squawking!” ~smash! smash! smash!~

  “Oh my goodness, Mr. Merlin, stop! What are you doing? You are smashing up the relatively charming little songbird into a jhillion pieces!”

  “Silence, you foul, little gremlin. Do you all naughtte see? This creature has placed you under an evil magic spell! You are all under his enchantments and wicked thrall. I beg of you, King Arthur, slay this dragon that has insinuated itself into our midst. Do not be fooled by his cheap trickeries.”

  “There ain’t no trickeries! I done showed you how everything works. I’ll show you again, slower this time if you want.”

  “Do not listen to the foul words of this monster, Sire. I understand that you are a kind and merciful king, and prefer to leave the official executions of state to the executioner, his deputies, trainees, up and coming death-merchants, their apprentices and other promising killers of such ilk, but I ask you leave to dispatch this disgusting threat personally.”

  “I ain’t done nothing! I ain’t got no problem with you, Mr. Merlin. Let’s us be pals.”

  “Never! Your Majesty, I challenge this worthless, sloughed snakeskin. I would meet this spy in magic combat!”

  “But, Sire...”

  “Hm. A duel between wizards, eh? Ha! I like it! Let it be so! I hereby approve the challenge as laid forth by the magician Merlin.”

  “Nyenh, henh, henh! I shall call the mightiest of lightnings from the sky and from the clouds to blast this charlatan into nothingness!”

  “Hunh? But...”

  “I, Arthur, proclaim that at dawn tomorrow, there shall be a magician’s duel between Ichabod and Merlin to see who is the greatest wizard of Camelot!”

  Chapter 6

  The Wizards’ Duel

  “Nyenh, henh, henh! All of my preparations are in order! I stand prepared to incinerate the pretentious interloper!”

  “Verily, Merlin, thou art truly prepared in magic’s conjuring! Thanks to Ichabod’s soap, and its uncanny ability to remove the odours of my attendees, I, King Arthur, even from way over here, am able to smell the foul humours arising from your great, black, cauldrons that churn with ominous wrath.”

  “Yessir, Mr. King Arthur, sir, that ol’ Mr. Merlin has pulled out all the stops and is lettin’ rip with everything in the cupboard. Never mind that it is daytime, he is still got him a sl
ew of torches, bonfires, and self-standing wrought iron braziers roaring away. Actually, I think some of them there glowing braziers are loaded with some type of fancy incense.”

  “Ha! Verily, our Merlin lacks naughtte in ambiance.”

  “Yessir, Mr. King Arthur, sir, and it looks like he’s got him at least a hunnerd hooded cloak wearing, chanting druids arrayed around him. Most of them are tasked with holding up various statues, artifacts, and tapestries sewn with occult symbols.”

  “Methinks these things are normally arrayed about his magic sanctum, Ichabod, but as he has promised to strike thee down by lightning strike, and I tasked that this duel take place out of doors, he has had to move his belongings from inside, to out, from Merlin’s own, personal, castle/tower, that stands yon.”

  “It’s just as well, Sire, sir, because I reckon word has gotten out about this little hoe-down. I ain’t never seen a crowd like this before.”

  “Who can resist a good duel, Ichabod? Especially between the world’s greatest magicians! Little wonder that thousands upon thousands of people representing both clearly defined stratum of citizen class is on hand!”

  “I calleth to go first!”

  “Hey, that ain’t fair, Mr. Merlin, I wasn’t ready!”

  “The loser is welcome to weep.”

  “I thought we were supposed to go at the same time! You know, sort of like a quick-draw.”

  “No, no, no! I called it your Majesty! I get to go first!”

  “Verily, Merlin art correct, Ichabod. I am sorry, but he did call it first.”

  ~gulp~ “Yessir. Um, King Arthur, sir, may I make one request?”

  “Make thy last request, Ichabod.”

  “Thank you, King Arthur, sir. Well, sir, this Mr. Merlin seems pretty confident that he is going to blast me in a million pieces. There is a pretty good radius of a hundred feet around me and an open space to Mr. Merlin straight ahead by about a hundred yards. I’m worried that y’all might be a little too close to me. Begging your pardon, Sire, but I’d feel just awful if you all got hurt. Would you mind backing up your Royal Self and everybody else another hunnerd feet?”

  “So be it. Everyone scooteth back the requisite distance.”

  “Thank you, your Majesty, I reckon I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Very good. Art thou prepared, Merlin?”

  “Nyenh, henh, henh! Yes, Sire!”

  “I now give leave to Sir Richard Harrisse to be the master of this ceremony.”