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

by Ichabod Temperance

  Chapter 17

  Unfinished Business

  A merry man are you,

  and a merry man am I,

  yea, merry, merry men are we.

  Our King is newly foun’

  his head safe beneath its crown,

  and everything is as it should be!

  Oh, Camelot!

  Rejoice and sing!

  Oh, Camelot!

  Arthur is our King!

  Secret missions he doth take,

  adventure’s thirst he cannot slake.

  He’s a great big slice of cake,

  Arthur the rowdy, randy, rake!

  From the mountain to the harbour,

  This country loves Her King Arthur!

  Royalty as his you cannot fake,

  Chosen by the Lady of the Lake.

  His searing heat will surely bake,

  he is far more than I can take!

  Oh, Camelot!

  No need to go farther

  Oh, Camelot!

  You are at home King Arthur!

  “Gee, I sure am glad everything turned out all right, your Highness. It’s good to see you at the head of your Round Table surrounded by your Knights and Court and all the merry minstrels and courtesans and whatnots.”

  “Ha! Indeed, these are good times, my lad!”

  “Harken, my King, I doth hear the distant calls of an approaching fanfare.”

  “Verily, t’is true! With great fervor a great procession can be tracked by its eruption of horny heralds! The bugle’s blast follows behind a mighty wind blowing through Castle Camelot!”

  “And now the great doors of this great hall are thrown open with impunity!”

  “Good Knight in the morning, it’s Gunther!”

  “Gunther!”

  “Aye, t’is I, Gunther GravenHurlle! Verily, I am sad to report that I was unable to find the ever elusive Holy Grail; however, I did manage to take several villages’ worth of prisoners, livestock, and loot. I sent them around to the back of the castle.”

  “Sir Gunther! Well met, are you! I, your loving King, Arthur, do hereby welcome you back to Camelot! All Hail Sir Gunther!”

  “Hooray! Hail, Sir Gunther.”

  “Thank you, Sire. I ask, of thee, ist the varlet prepared?”

  “Ha! Sir Gunther, I have good news! Yes, Sir Ichabod is now a tried and true member of this august association. I approve him of battle with you sir!”

  “Thank you, Sire!”

  “Hooray!”

  “Uh, but, I was hoping we’d all just sort of let things slide, since I never really did say anything bad about Sir Gunther.”

  “Tut, tut, boy, take your medicine.”

  “Yessir.”

  “It is settled then! The day after tomorrow, we shall have our duel. A noble joust between two Knights. Sir Ichabod the foolhardy, against returning hero, undefeated champion and twenty stone of death-man walking, Sir Gunther, ‘The Mauler’, GravenHurlle!”

  - - -

  “Well, I reckon I’ve got about thirty-six hours to prepare. Do you have any suggestions, Ma’am?”

  “I understand Paris is lovely this time of year.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Miss Stephanie, be serious.”

  “I am. I doth naughtte believe thou knowest what thee is up against, Sir Ichabod.”

  “Well, he’s big, sure... but being big ain’t everything!”

  “He is thought to be a hundred pounds greater in size than Launcelot, and Launcelot is a lot of man.”

  “Yeah, I reckon when you picture me next to Launcelot and he being so much bigger, it’s almost that way between Launcelot and Gunther. Gosh, that Sir Gunther is a pretty stout feller all right, but it ain’t the size of the man in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the man, Ma’am.”

  “Sir Gunther is a terrible apparition to behold in battle! Men that have fought alongside of the brute, weep in anguish to tell of the killing madness that takes Gunther in combat! He loses himself in a gruesome, killing, berzerker ecstasy!”

  “Uhb.”

  “Hast thou slain many men in battle, Sir Ichabod?”

  “Um, well, not so much a lot of slaying as such.”

  “Naughtte so with Sir Gunther! He has slain men uncounted in bloody combat! Going back many years, fearsome accounts of an inhuman blood rage taking the man grant him a legendary status! Casting aside his shield, he often prefers to grip sword in one hand and axe in the other and give himself over to the unholy frenzy of total submersion in the depths of a killing debauchery. He has been known to take trophies...”

  “Okay, okay! You know, I ain’t real big, but I’m wiry! Back when the king and I were in a big brawl at the public house, I did all right. I like to scrap! I’m always wrasslin’ with my pals and I got a punch that I’ll make a man respect whether he wants to or not!”

  “Eh hem, I see. And when thou dost grapple whilst wearing chain and plate armour?”

  “Oh, uh, the armour usually wins.”

  “Your horsemanship?”

  “I like horsies!”

  “Dost thou have much experience in handling war-chargers, eh hem? Thou knows how to wield a horse as weapon in field combat? Thou art experienced in removing gore from thy steed’s hooves, m’lord?”

  “Um, no Ma’am, not so much.”

  “Art thou highly skilled in the use of the lance?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Spear?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Glaive?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Sword?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  “Mace?”

  “No, Ma’am.”

  ~sigh~ “T’was nice knowing thee, Ichabod.”

  “Now, don’t you worry none, Miss Stephanie, I got me a secret weapon!”

  “Dost thee? What is it?”

  “It’s Spyke! I sent him over to Gunther’s training camp to see if he could garner any information that may prove useful to us. Hey, there he is now. Did you find anything out, Spyke?”

  “I scouted out his encampment very thoroughly, Sir Icky!”

  “Attaboy, Spyke! Did you get a look at his horse? I figure that will be an important part of the equation. You know, he might be inordinately scared of mice or something.”

  “Oh did I see the horse! Great equestrian nightmares! The bloody beast is straight from Hades! He’s put three stable-men in the infirmary! All the other horses live in terror! All this horse can do is think about killing! Kill, kill, kill!”

  “Gee, all the horsies I know are sweet. Maybe Sir Gunther ain’t gonna take a little fella like me seriously.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about whether he is taking you seriously or naughtte, Icksy! He has dozens of dummies made up in your image. With a fury I’ve never seen, the monster that is Gunther GravenHurlle revels in the death of these proxies.”

  “Dang, I was hoping you would come back with some good news.”

  “That was the good news.”

  “Oh.”

  “Right before I was leaving, as I could naughtte stand the practice carnage any longer, Sir Gunther received a visit from an important delegation.”

  “The ladies reserve auxiliary for retired Knights trying to coax him into early retirement?”

  “No, t’was three dark and scary magician types.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “Offering their assistance to Sir Gunther.”

  “He is an honourable Knight! He will refuse their dark favours! He doesn’t need them anyway!”

  “Gunther is no fool. He has heard of your uncanny ability to somehow squeak through the inescapable. He has accepted their black magics wholeheartedly as he has loudly pledged to naughtte allow thee to survive this encounter.”

  - - -

  “Ha! Splendid day for a jousting duel, eh Guenevere?”

  “Oh, yes, Arthur, my King! I am very much looking forward to this encounter!”

  “Ha! So am I, my dear! It is shaping up to be an ep
ic encounter it seems. What do you say, Launcelot?”

  “I am afraid today’s bout has no appeal to me, your Highness. I am fond of the little fellow and it pains me to see him cut down by the great brute, Gunther.”

  “I admit, he is more than just a little out-matched. This is sure to be a death sentence for Sir Ichabod. I will miss him most of all, I think.”

  “Arthur, my friend and my King, I beg of thee, stop this bout and spare the lad’s life.”

  “Yes, I must admit, I too, have developed a fondness for the boy, baughtte that is why I am so excited at his opportunity to die a glorious and noble death! Such a hero’s death is normally far away from the grasp of the common man, yet I feel most strongly that Ichabod be afforded this privilege. I know, I’m rather a soft-hearted old fool at times, baughtte I cannot help indulging my generous nature from time to time.”

  “Thy art a gracious and generous king, my Lord.”

  “Thank you, Launcelot. I understand Gunther has been unusually busy as he prepares for this encounter. A simple finger thump from a sleepy Sir Gunther seemeth enough to be done with the little field mouse. Your thoughts, Guenevere?”

  “Methinks Gunther’s preparedness spills well into the overly kill-worthy pastures. He readies himself for this bout like no other before, my King.”

  “I do naughtte understand these actions. Gunther has faced the finest warriors and defeated them all. Present company excluded of course, Launcelot.”

  “Prithee, your Highness.”

  “Why should Sir Gunther grant so much auspicious respect on our little Ichabod? He’s a brave lad, baughtte surely he cannaughtte hope to defeat such a war-proven, battle-hardened, blood-thirsty monster as Sir Gunther, can he?”

  “Gunther would be most embarrassed at a loss to Sir Ichabod.”

  “Ha! That must be it!”

  “Ichabod has a purity that is very Knight-like, methinks. He may make a good showing of himself today, your Highness.

  “Good for you, Launcelot! I admire your support of the less likely dog in the fight.”

  “My King, I understand that Sir Gunther is aware of Sir Ichabod’s tenacity as concerns knack for continued life. He is taking no chances as he dearly loves his ‘undefeated’ status.”

  “I often wonder why thou dost allow him to maintain such a boast, when all know that you are the superior Knight, Sir Launcelot.”

  “That ‘title’ is a petty thing, when one places such a word over a man’s life.”

  “Ha! You are the very embodiment of nobility, my friend. Once more, your code of chivalry is a shining hallmark of this kingdom, Sir Launcelot. I am given to understand that both combatants have been making vigorous, if unusual preparations for this meeting.”

  “Tell, me, Arthur my King, has Ichabod, being as inexperienced as he is, received much training, and sage advice from experienced jousting champions, such as Sir Launcelot, here?”

  “Ha! No my dear, it is my understanding that he has received not a whit of help from any quarter.”

  “How strange, my King. I would have thought he would be in some field somewhere, getting training, practice and tips from experienced jousting Knights.”

  “Oui, Ichabod has been locked away in his various workshops and the stables, lo, this past day and a half. I myself have gone by to offer my own experience to teach this novice, baughtte the boy graciously declined. I am told that he has commandeered the indoor riding arena, but he only has a few horses in there.”

  “Does he do well with the big chargers?”

  “He did naughtte requisition any such animal, Sire.”

  “No charger! No training? Does he naughtte know the importance of a good jousting horse?”

  “He did put some effort into horse selection, but none of the horses purchased are war-like.”

  “No trainers?”

  “No sire.”

  “Beyond the normal preparations already spoken of, Sir Gunther has also taken unusual steps in that he has formed a strange alliance.”

  “Ha! Yes, I have gotten wind of this unsettling development. The three famous magicians, Merlin, Morgana, and Mischa have all thrown their support behind Sir Gunther. Since Gunther fears he may be vulnerable to Ichabod’s magics, Gunther has chosen to ally himself with these powerful assistants, to shield himself from any marvels Ichabod may produce.”

  “Oh, Arthur, my King, these exhibitions are ever so thrilling! From where we are on our viewing stand, in a field of billowing, colourful tents, the jousting lanes are set up to pass before us. The large, extended camp of Sir Gunther with his many supporters lies to our left, while the one, lonely, plain little tent of Sir Ichabod lies to our right. I wonder what’s going on in Sir Gunther’s tent right now?”

  - - -

  “DeathHoove! Verily thou canst naughtte be restrained! Were these many retainers to release thee, thou wouldst charge across the field and destroy the little smudge of insignificance yourself! Did the groom put a little something in thy fodder to help bring out your bloodlust for battle? Ha! Good! I see it in your rolling, raving, bloodshaughtte eyes, my black beauty killer!”

  “We did naughtte throw our favour behind a blasted horse, Gunther! We are counting on you to crush this annoyance.”

  “You may count on it, my Mistress Morgana. The only thing to cause worry, is whether or naughtte I can restrain myself from killing the wretch before the appropriate signal.”

  “Nyenh, henh, henh! I, Merlin, have personally seen to it that your armour is suffused with a magic that makes it invulnerable to any blade!”

  “Speaking of blades, I am always confident when I have ‘Slycer’ at my side. This sword and I have slain a hundred men in battle!”

  “Mischa, do you have the sheet of sheer invisibility ready?”

  “Of course, baughtte we must wait until after the opening ceremonies before we can deploy its secret weapon power, Morgana.”

  “Then all is in readiness! I have touched your battle lances Gunther, instilling their shafts with death’s promise. I now have just one more spell to weave.”

  I call upon the powers

  of deepest Heck.

  Help us extinguish

  this pesty speck.

  Unbeatable in battle!

  Bloody goblet runs full.

  My spell of thee commands,

  Gunther be invincible!

  - - -

  “How’s it lookin’ out there, Ma’am?”

  “I sayeth, as one might suspect. All the court are turned out. Spectators flock from far away lands to see the spectacle.”

  “I reckon that’s good for the local aeconomy. What I meant was, does the viewing stand appear to be ready to get things started?”

  “Verily, m’lord, the King is in his place with his closest friends about him. Such a festive occasion this is!”

  “What about Sir Gunther?”

  “Gunther always travels large, baughtte today he has truly outdone himself as his train of staff and men at arms spread in a great array. The three magicians’ caravans are also present.”

  “Dang. I was hoping they would go away. What about the other Knights? Do they seemetheth to be throwing their thupport behind Thir Gunther?”

  “Oh, yes! Great, noble Knights by the score are lining up in support of Gunther, offering their services to second the man should he need it.”

  “Oh. Um, is anybody lining up to support me?”

  “Yes, Sir Ichabod!”

  “Really, who?”

  “Spyke! However, he told me to tell you this as he thinks it may be a disadvantage to his health to get too close to the tent.”

  “Oh.”

  “Daisy is looking like She’s ready! Verily, she appeareth most eager, Ma’am!”

  ~sigh~ “Poor little Daisy. Aye, she is a sweet little horse. I will miss her.”

  “Don’t say that, Ma’am, she’s gonna do just fine, ain’t you, Miss Daisy, Ma’am?”

  “Neheheheheheheh!”

  “Se
e, she’s feeling good!”

  “Oh, Daisy, thou art a fine chestnut mare. I pray thee leaves the field intact, my sweet.”

  “I like her! She’s frisky and nimble!”

  “She is too sweet for battle! She licks my face, where I fear Gunther’s steed would do something vastly different if given the chance.”

  “Yes, Ma’am, you’re probably right about that.”

  “Your preparation has been spent with an equal amount of time in your workshops and your play with Daisy.”

  “All work and no play will make you nutty, Ma’am.”

  “Indeed.”

  “It weren’t no play, no how. Me and Miss Daisy was training!”

  “It appeared as play to me, Sir Ichabod. Dost thou really have confidence in these contraptions of yours? Verily, they appear inadequate for the task ahead.”

  “I wish I had a chance to test them out, but I reckon I’ll just have to hope for the best.”

  “Oh, the bugles blare! That fanfare indicates that the King has called the combatants to the dais!”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Do I look all right?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Um, I reckon this is it. Wish me luck.”

  “Oh, Sir Ichabod, please don’t go! Let us slip out the back and run away!”

  “Oh, I don’t reckon that would be proper behaviour for a Knight of the Round Table, Ma’am.”

  “I don’t want you to be killed!”

  “I ain’t real keen on getting skewered on a lance, Ma’am, I’m telling you that for a fact.”

  “Oh, Ichabod, this is naughtte thy time! You have no cause to adhere to our codes or standards!”

  “I got a couple of buddies up on the viewing stand, and I would not want to let them down. I like to think that chivalry is a thing that lives in all times, Ma’am.”

  “Oh, Ichabod...”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Didst thou want me to wish for thee good luck on thy foolhardy task?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Then come here, my gallant lad!”

  “Eep!”

  “Let me get a good, tight, hold of thee, Sir Ichabod. There, that’s just about right. With all that I am, I do hereby grant and bequeath all the luck, all the hope, and all that is good in my being upon thee my sweet champion.”