~bang!~
“It made a loud noise. Smoke issues from the thing.”
“One of the Knights fell in conjunction with the device’s outburst. It was if some invisible missile went out to drop that man from his saddle.”
~bang!~ ~ bang!~
“The other two Knights have fallen!”
“I reckon Sir Gunther and company have had enough, Sire. Do I win, yet?”
“Ha! So you have, my boy, so you have! I command that no more challenges be made and that Ichabod is officially declared the winner!”
“Hooray!”
“Verily, oh he who art the man, Ichabod, truly, thou hast won the day.”
“Hooray!”
“Ha! Look there! Ichabod dost cause his mount to rear up on her hind legs in a flamboyant sort of celebration and salute! The horse stands and kicks while Ichabod raises his funny little black hat to accept the accolades.”
“What is it he is doing now? He is spinning his length of rope again. He has enlarged the loop to a great degree and twirls it in a vertical manner.”
“Look there, it’s Stephanie, the Quest Wench. She has gathered her skirts in one hand to expose her lovely, bare feet. Now she skips to and fro from one side of Sir Ichabod’s vertical loop of rope to the other through the open hoop! Doing so in a rhythmic and pleasing fashion, holding her opposite hand high, forsooth, she smiles and waves to an appreciative audience.”
“Hooray!”
“Ha! Come forward, Sir Ichabod. Thou hast done well this day!”
“Thank you, your Majesty!”
“Oui, you have done exceedingly well today, Ichabod, baughtte this thunderous device thou wields; didst thou slayeth these three Knights?”
“Oh, no sir. True, this here is a very deadly device, and if the projectile had been made of lead or steel, these men would be grievously injured or even dead. However, I took the precaution of substituting hard-tack bread pellets and salt in place of standard ammunition. I reckon these stricken Knights will be bruised, but all right.”
“Ha! Incredible! Thou hast defeated a respectable contingent of mighty foes today Sir Ichabod. Thou hast done so and in high fashion yet with respect toward the lives of your fellow man. Let us give three cheers for Ichabod, for it is he who art the man!”
“Hip, hip, hooray!”
“Hip, hip, hooray!”
“Hip, hip, hooray!”
“Thanks, everybody! Golly, I did it, I really did it! I am so happy! Things really worked out for me, I just hope that things work out for you three good folks, Arthur, Guenevere and Launcelot, so y’all can be happy too!”
. . .
. .
.
“Um, I mean, you three, King Arthur, Queen Guenevere, and Sir Launcelot are such good pals and all. You know, like, y’all admire one another so much, and um, I just want y’all to be happy, right? Cause, it’s a shame the way things are what with there, um being this here two-wheeler cart with a third wheel, so to speak, but, um, I didn’t mean to say nothing, you know, um, I was just saying I wished things would work out for everybody is all.”
“Ichabod! Mon Dieu! You have broken your promise and spoken aloud of my secret love for Guenevere!”
“Oh, Ichabod, how beastly! I spoke to you of my feelings for Launcelot in confidence! You have betrayed your Queen! I am ruined!”
“Ichabod, I, your King, didst trust thou to speak my heart to thee in confidence. Oh, what traitorous fiend ye be Ichabod Temperance! Thou hath concealed from me, your knowledge of love between Guenevere and Launcelot. I am crushed, broken, and defeated by thy callous disrespect for me.”
“Oh, my Goodness! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I would never betray any of you! You are all such fine people, I did not have the heart to hurt any of you! Please, don’t be mad at me!”
“Silence! I, Arthur, King of the Britains, do hereby rescind your Knighthood and banish you from the halls of Camelot forever!”
Chapter 18
Ichabod’s Lament
Every time I try
to do what’s right
Misfortune follows me.
Fate pulls a fast one
just for spite
I’m no good, it’s plain to see.
I’d sooner drown
than hurt my friends
I love them with all my might.
With my last breath
I would defend
but I’m a failed and dishonoured Knight.
Sorrow grows
where I have tread.
Failure flowers at my touch.
Oh, how I wish,
that I were dead,
to hope for that is just too much.
“What was I thinking? Me, a Knight of the Round Table. I may as well put on a red kerchief and say I’m Santa Claus. They should have seen through me from the start. I tried to live up to their standards, but I should have known I couldn’t do it. Now the whole kingdom hates me, especially King Arthur, Queen Guenevere, and Sir Launcelot. Even Spyke disappeared when I fell out of favour. Even... even Miss Stephanie has abandoned me.”
Instigator of,
catastrophe,
victim of,
circumstance.
My list of friends,
it atrophies,
It’s the heartbreak of
Temperance.
“I’m so lost and lonesome. I wish I was back home in my world of 1877 with Miss Plumtart, Bolt, and all our friends, but I’m so far back in time, that North America won’t even be discovered for nearly a thousand years. I’ll be one thousand, three hundred and sixty something years old before I see Miss Plumtartt again, if I live that long, which ain’t likely. Oh, golly, I wish something would distract me before I break out in a sad, melancholy song again.”
“Ichabod!”
“Hey, I think I heard a distant voice.”
“Ichabod!”
“Hey, I did!”
“Ichabod!”
“It’s a female voice.”
“Ichabod!”
“It sounds familiar.”
“Ichabod!”
“I think it’s Miss Stephanie!”
“Ichabod!”
“Miss Stephanie came looking for me!”
“Ichabod!”
“I’m over here, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am.”
“Ichabod, there you are! I have been looking all over for you. What are you doing out here in the middle of the forest on a dark and moonless night?”
“I got de-Knighted and run out of the castle, remember?”
“Baughtte Ichabod, that was this morning and much has happened since then.”
“Oh my Goodness, what’s wrong?”
“With your injudicious words, the Court is thrown into chaos! Verily madness reigns! Launcelot has withdrawn from the Round Table and no one knows from whence he has retired. Some fear that he is on his way back to France! The Queen has gone mad in her distraughtte fevers and has also abandoned Camelot. The King is in a funque and will naughtte be roused.”
“This is terrible!”
“Nay, this is the terrible part. The court has completely collapsed. All of King Arthur’s hard work to build an alliance and unite England into a sovereign nation has fallen apart. The Knights have abandoned him.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Nay, this is the horrible part. The Knights were out of their minds at this sudden void of leadership and collapse in their known way of life. The sorceress Morgana, seeing an opportunity, showed great presence of mind and beguiling manner. She has turned many Knights to her favour. She readies a mighty army to assault an abandoned Camelot.”
“That is really bad!”
“Nay, this is what is really bad. Your King is alone and in need of a friend while thou sittest in the woods having a wee pity party for thyself.”
“But I was exiled!”
“That was this morning, this is this evening. Arthur needs you.”
“Oh, my Goodness! Let’s hurry
back to Camelot and save King Arthur!”
- - -
“Gosh, Miss Stephanie, Camelot is always so loud and lively; it is really strange to approach its fearsome walls and gate while it sits in an uncomfortable silence.”
“Aye, me Icksibod, and so dark. Normally there’d be torchs set to either side of the gate and all along the battlements, baughtte the gloomy castle is as dark as a parsons shadow. Nay a single guard, where there ought to be scores of soldiers marching about.”
“What do we do? I feel funny about just walking right...”
“Huh-lo? Is somebody out there! I challenge, friend or foe?”
“Gee, at this point, I ain’t real sure, sir. What are you?”
“Hunh. I be naughtte sure meself. Go on in, it maketh no difference to me.”
“I’m glad someone was here to guard the place.”
“Oh, I was just leaving. I think I’m the last one out. I would naughtte stick around too long. The Mistress Morgana is said to be marching an indefiable army to take this castle.”
“Thanks, buddy. Come on Miss Stephanie.”
“Harken my Icksi, the howl of winds through empty battlement and deserted castle passage doth sing a morose song. Look there, in the courtyards, where dead leaves form desultory whirlwinds dancing a macabre, sad waltz.”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Stephanie Ma’am. Them there mournful moans in this spooky keep are putting me on a trembly edge.”
“Hurry lad, let us quickly make our way to the King.”
“Golly, here we are at the King’s royal bedchamber. Do you think he will be inside?”
“Yes.”
“Should we go in?”
“Yes.”
“Are you waiting on me to go in first?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to go first?”
“No.”
“I reckon it’s up to me, then, hunh?”
“Yes.”
~knock, knock~ “Hello, Sire? Are you at home? It’s me, Ichabod. Me and Miss Stephanie came by to see you.”
“Ichabod...”
“Sire? Did I hear you speak?”
“Ichabod, is that you?”
“King Arthur, it is I, Ichabod. Are you in here?”
“Ichabod, is that really you, … or it a dream?”
“Sire, where are you? Oh my Goodness, there you are in bed! My King, you ain’t wounded art thee?”
“Ichabod, come to me. Press my hand that I know you are of flesh and naughtte a phantom of my fevered mind.”
“It is me, my King. I am so sorry about what happened this morning, your Majesty.”
“Nay, I was hasty with my words and would have you forgive me.”
“Yessir, Sire.”
“My Court has crumbled. My Knights, my Queen, and my champion have all deserted me.”
“What has happened to you, my King? You were healthy a few hours ago, but now you are as gray as ashe. You seemeth all sunken inneth.”
“My health mirrors that of Britain. Britain falters, therefore, so do I.”
“Sire, you must snap out of it! That mean ol’ Morgana Le Meerrin is making a play to snatch up your position in a go for broke power play. She has finagled, to put it politely, an alliance with many of your former Knights. She will be back to take the castle, throne, and crown. What are we gonna do?”
“Ichabod, I am counting on you. You must save England. You must stop Morgana. I task you with these two things.”
“Two things? I thought this kind of stuff always came in threes.”
“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, there is something else. You must find for me the Sacred Chalice of Christ. This must be your quest. Find for me, the Holy Grail!
“Um, yessir, um, how do I do that?”
“Find Launcelot, find the Grail.”
“But I ain’t a Knight no more. I don’t really think I’m cut out to be a Knight.”
“I re-instate thee, Sir Ichabod.”
“Oh, Goodness! This is a job for a big hero like you, or Launcelot!”
“You must be a big hero, Ichabod.”
“Sire!”
“...Guenevere, oooooooooooooooooo........”
“Come along, Sir Ichabod, let the king rest.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“We shall kindle a fire in our Miss Beemer, and set out in pursuit of Sir Launcelot.”
“That’s a good idea. Hey, there’s Spyke.”
“Ugh, I was hoping you would naughtte notice me skulking in this dark alcove.”
“Hey Spyke, we figure Sir Launcelot is making for the coast so he can sail away back to France. Do you know if Guenevere went with him?”
“No, he left without her. She had the waterworks on full blast when he left though, I can promise you that.”
“Any idea where she is.”
“The scuttlebutt, er, that is, the juicy gossip, I mean what I heard through the grapevine was that she up and ran off to a local convent in a desperate play for attention.”
“Well, you see if you can find her and persuade her to return while we’re off after this Knight that has given us the French kiss-off.”
“I don’t want to go to a convent! It’s full of nuns! I hates nuns! They are the cruelest species on the planet! No, no, anything baughtte nuns!”
“Sorry, Spyke, you gotta do it.”
“Oh all right, but how am I supposed to get there.”
“You can ride Miss Daisy!”
“I beg your pardon.”
“She’s that pretty little horse!”
“I’m scared of horses!”
“But she’s a sweet little horsie!”
“Oh, all right.”
“Thanks, Spykey. Well, I reckon our steamer is ready Miss Stephanie, Ma’am. You and me need to hightail it after Sir Launcelot before he departs for the continent, leaving England, Guenevere and Arthur behind, forever.”
Chapter 19
A Surprise is Prepared
“Now is the time, Morgana! Let us kill Arthur and strike Camelot down!”
“Merlin is right, Morgana! Ichabod is discredited, the Round Table is fractured; splintered into combative factions, and we now are getting reports that Arthur is completely abandoned; sick, weak and alone.”
“You gentlemen are correct. You, Mischa, correctly predicted that Ichabod would be our instrument of Arthur’s destruction, baughtte we never anticipated that it would happen in this confabulation.”
“I will naughtte be at ease until that mouse has been exterminated.”
“We all agree on that; however, I think his time of influence is past.”
“We have a vast army at our behest; why do we delay?”
“Because I say so, Merlin! You men are powerful and wise, baughtte I, Mistress Morgana Le Meerrin have a secret knowledge. I have a secret power. I possess of a piece of Destiny!”
“What is this you speak of, Morgana?”
“You will find out soon enough, Merlin. There is one thing that concerns me. That is Launcelot. He is a powerful Knight and I will be more at ease if I know that his ship has sunk in his channel crossing. Mischa, my dear, could you see to this trivial thing for me, my pet?”
“I am naughtte your pet, however, it will be my pleasure to see to the demise of that ‘Holier than thou’ Jauque-ass.”
“Merlin and I shall take Camelot, slay Arthur, and reveal that which I have kept hidden, but first, I want to change from my slinky, oval face gown into my battle gear.”
“From this time forward, let the Three M Corpouration reign over Britain.”
Chapter 20
Bon Voyage
~Toot! Toot!~
“Hold the boat!”
“Oui, ship the oars. This is naughtte a fire-breathing dragon that is bounding across this long, sea-grassed meadow towards us. No, it is the infernal creation of he who art the man, Ichabod.”
“Oh, please, stop that little boat that is carrying Sir Launcelot out to a ship to carry him across the En
glish Channel and back to France.”
“Please, go, Ichabod. It pains me to suffer thy gaze.”
“Oh, no, this is all my fault, Sir Launcelot and I am so sorry! I did not mean to betray you! It was an accident! Please don’t go! Arthur needs you!”
“No, this disaster is naughtte of thy doing, my noble friend. I knowest thou dost naughtte have it in thy great heart to ever knowingly betray a friend. The shame of this calamity is mine alone to bear for it was I that was unable to control my traitorous lust. I have ruined the greatest love in history, that of my dearest friends, by the infernal treacheries of love itself. I must leave this land and pay eternal penance. I am ashamed, Ichabod, ashamed. Do naughtte torture me any longer. Every moment I tarry here, brings me unbearable pain.”
“Sir Launcelot, you are so pure and brave and noble and everything else that is good in humanity, you couldn’t help it if your incomparable heart fell for Guenevere!”
“I have failed, Ichabod, adieu.”
“Nossir, don’t say that! You are the greatest of Knights, yet your true fame is choosing to wear that reknown with humility. You are the benchmark of nobility that men strive for through the ages! You are the first to see compassion as noble, and strength a virtue to be used with wisdom! You are the catalyst for changing a ‘might is right’ mentality, to force of arms being used with measure rather than brutality. You are the instigation of chivalry! Without Sir Launcelot, chivalry may never come to be!”
“I am naughtte worthy of this distinction. Perhaps, once upon a time, baughtte that time is passed. My oarsmen, you may now continue to row me out to the waiting ship. Tell Arthur, I am sorry.”
“Oh, please don’t go! Arthur needs you!”
“Good-bye, Ichabod.”
“Oh, no, come back, Sir Launcelot!”
“Sir Launcelot!”
“Come back!”
“We need you, Sir Launcelot!”
“Launcelot!”
“Oh, no, I have failed again! I can’t do nothing right! What am I going to tell the King?”
“Mwuh, huh, huh. That’s it, just a little further, you pusilanimous, proto-Promethean, pussy-footing, protagonizing Paladin! Ha, ha! Now the water is plenty deep for you to drown with no hope of rescue when I cast you in whilst thy art wearing thy heavy, shining, chain and plate armour! That steel you are sealed in has sealed your ocean floor bound fate! Ha, ha!”
The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) Page 15
